


Morning Star

by Impetuous_Archipelago



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Canon Related, Drama, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Multi, Past Lu Han/Oh Sehun, Polyamory, Violence, self-sacrificing Jongdae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2020-09-28 03:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impetuous_Archipelago/pseuds/Impetuous_Archipelago
Summary: Jongdae is completely in love with his boyfriend Jongin, and maybe a little with Sehun. But that's fine, it's not a problem.The problem is that a voice from their past is starting to catch up to Jongdae, and Jongdae will do anything to protect this little bubble of happiness they've worked so hard to build. Even if it means sacrificing his own place within it.





	1. The Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick disclaimer: I don't usually write sci-fi, so the technology in this is purely for my own fascination and may not meet all the science requirements. I hope you enjoy!

“Morning Star.”

Rain stung Jongdae’s eyes as he squinted through the dimly lit street, trying to identify the source of the voice through the downpour. 

There was no one. 

“Hyung, what are you doing, you’re getting drenched!”

Sehun was standing in the orange glow of the bar’s doorway, a booted foot propping the door open, face drawn in a formidable frown. It would have been intimidating if Jongdae wasn’t well acquainted with what his brat looked like when he was feeling mildly concerned. 

“Sorry, just thought I heard something.” Jongdae shook his head, wondering if he was hallucinating things before he’d even started drinking. He ducked through the doorway beneath Sehun’s arm, which immediately draped itself across his shoulders. Jongdae wrapped an arm around Sehun’s waist. 

“You were amazing, Hunnie,” Jongdae nuzzled into the bony shoulder made available to him. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything more beautiful than you two on that stage.” He meant it, too. Something close to pride, but simultaneously far too beautiful and far too ugly to name, had bubbled in his chest as he’d watched, and now it was congealed there. Jongdae wasn’t particularly certain what to do with this mix of emotions, but he’d been nursing similar coagulations of adoration, fear and jealousy in the general vicinity of his heart for several months now, and he didn’t see any particular need to acknowledge the feelings this time around. The kids were safe, they were happy. The rest, he could handle. 

“Your hair is all wet, hyung,” was the only response Jongdae received, but there was a quick press of lips against his temple before Sehun was sliding his noodley form into the booth next to Changmin.

Before Jongdae could feel sad about the loss of warmth and Sehun’s cat-like affections, however, he was distracted by another pair of hands trailing up his ribs. Jongdae yelped, squirming until the hands grabbed him more firmly, arms circling his waist from behind.

“Hi, hyung.” Laughter puffed in his ear before two kisses were placed behind it.

Jongdae shivered despite himself. “Hi, Jongini,” he breathed, his fingers coming to twine with Jongin’s where they were splayed against his abdomen. Squeezing briefly, he unlocked Jongin’s arms from around him so he could turn to face his lovely koala.

Jongdae still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get a decent breath in these last two years, not when Jongin looked like that, and looked at him like that. With his ash grey hair that had been beautifully styled up for the performance now flopping over his forehead, eyeliner that had been used to devastating effect now smudged to resemble a panda’s markings, and face still covered in droplets of sweat that would keep reappearing until he actually took a shower, Jongin was still the most beautiful human being Jongdae had ever seen.

And this most beautiful human being was smiling at him, all crinkly eyes and pearly white teeth, like a goddamn toothpaste ad, but infinitely better because Jongdae got to kiss this smile. 

Which he did now, until the complaints from the table behind him grew too loud to ignore and he was forced to draw back.

“Later,” was promised in his ear, but he was adamant about keeping his hand curled with Jongin’s as they squeezed in next to Sehun and the uncouth hoard of people they called friends.

“Disgusting,” Changmin commented, to which Jongin blew him a kiss and Jongdae gave him the finger. 

“God, it’s August, why is it still raining?” Leeteuk whined, eyeing Jongdae’s dampened fringe with distaste. All of a sudden, Jongdae found Sehun’s jacket dumped unceremoniously over his shoulders and Jongin was rubbing his hair with someone’s sweaty towel. “Weren’t June and July shitty enough?”

“Nothing wrong with a few more thunderstorms,” Jongdae’s voice shuddered slightly from Jongin’s vigrorous ministrations. 

Beside him, Sehun let out a snort. “Just because you like poor weather, doesn’t mean we all do.”

“I thought you’d be on my side, Hunnie,” Jongdae made sure to exaggerate his pout. “Jongini likes lightning, don’t you, Nini?”

Jongin flicked the sides of both their heads.

“You people are weird,” Taemin ripped his gaze from his holo-console for only a moment before returning to playing Candy Crush. Or scouring Tinder for boys. Or both. Taemin liked to say the same strategy worked for both: line them up and crush them. 

A bright four-to-the-floor beat struggled to light up the tiles of the at least-decade old holographic dancefloor.

“Oh my god, I love this song!” Jongin’s limbs had begun their tell-tale twitch, which meant it was only a matter of time before Jongdae got kicked in the shin if he allowed Jongin to stay there.

Jongdae took the towel from his hands, “Go, go, you dancing maniac.”

Jongin’s whole face lit up. “Hunnie, will you come?”

The next thing Jongdae knew, Sehun’s long legs were crossing over Jongdae’s lap to sidle out of the booth. Jongdae ignored the brief moment that Sehun’s crotch was in his face and waved at them gently as Jongin clutched at his dance-partner’s hand and dragged him to rapidly growing crowd on the dancefloor. 

As Changmin and Leeteuk bickered about something–Taemin throwing a word in from time to time just to rile one of them up¬– Jongdae found his gaze trailing across the dancefloor to Jongin and Sehun. They were just playing around, spilling their drinks as they pretended to control each other’s limbs, but still so beautiful, so powerful. Jongdae thought he could hear Jongin’s laughter even over the thumping bass, and Sehun was beaming at the giggling dancer with that sweet little smile he gave when he thought no one was paying attention. In the blue and indigo light that illuminated them from the holo-floor, they looked ethereal.

They looked so good together. 

When he turned back, he found the other three occupants of the table eyeing him strangely. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Changmin cleared his throat and immediately pretended to fall asleep.

“Smooth,” Taemin noted.

Jongdae simply chose to move on. “How are things at the space-station, hyung?” Jongdae asked Leeteuk. 

Leeteuk looked at him quizzically. 

“What?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever asked me that.”

“Don’t you work there, too, Jongdae?” Taemin questioned, gazed still affixed to his holo-console. “Yikes, not today satan–” He swiped violently left. Jongdae caught a glimpse of the name ‘Minho’ zooming off the screen. 

“I work security—I don’t actually know what’s happening inside KARI, Taemin.” It was true, Jongdae spent most of his life these days around the perimeter of things. He turned to Leeteuk “Besides, hyung, I’m sure I’ve asked you about work at least once in the last two years.”

“Nope,” Leeteuk said, but he didn’t seem particularly bothered. “You asked me about everything else, including, let me remind you, how to open a bank account– what self-respecting twenty-five-year-old doesn’t know how to do that– and where to throw the recyclable trash, but not once have you asked me about the space station.”

Jongdae wasn’t sure why Leeteuk felt a self-respecting twenty-five-year-old was required to know how to open a bank account, but not necessarily how to throw out their own garbage, but he let it slide. It was true, he never asked Leeteuk or Changmin about their work, and the choice was made not out of lack of care for his two hyungs who had picked him– them– up when they had absolutely nothing to hold them upright. Both Leeteuk and Changmin worked as electrical engineers for KARI– the Korea Aerospace Research Institute– in Dajeon (known affectionately as the ‘space station’ despite being very much on earth), and Jongdae had never asked them about their work because it always felt like flirting with temptation. It was bad enough that he had to spend so much time around the outside of the Institute, in proximity of all the many ways humanity could look at the universe. Jongdae wasn’t supposed to go searching the solar system again, wasn’t supposed to gaze at the universe, wasn’t to so much as look at a circuit board funny. 

But now, with the lighting outside thrumming in his veins and the rainclouds enveloping Seoul’s glimmering skyline, Jongdae was feeling a little reckless.

“I’m asking now.”

“Well, if you really want to know, we’re preparing for the Venus transit in December— it’s going to be the closest Venus has been to Earth in about a century and we’re gearing up to do a bunch of testing. Then–”

“Why are you looking at Venus now?” Taemin snorted. “Aren’t your overlords expecting you to single-handedly prevent the next solar storm from destroying the earth? Or have you guys decided it’s a lost cause and we’re all supposed to hop onto Venus when it passes by?”

“It is not a lost cause!” The alcohol made Leeteuk shrill. “I’ll have you know we’re making leaps and bounds in mag-field technology, so it’s only a matter of time before we can not only predict solar wind, but prevent it from being an issue at all! We just need to do a few more calculations and–”

“So when are the calculations getting done, hyung? When will you be free to come home and sleep? Have a life? When you’re sixty?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You missed the performance! And now you’re here, looking half dead and–”

Ah, so that was the crux of it, Jongdae realized. 

Usually the closest Taemin allowed the conversation to veer towards the work at KARI was to demand praise for the sprawling billboard on Gyeonbu Expressway that– to Leeteuk’s horror, Taemin’s delight, and Changmin’s and Jongdae’s mild discomfort– had emerged in May to bless their daily commute with a giant holograph of a leering Taemin, clad in nothing but silken boxers and a strategically placed tea cup.

But now that Jongdae actually looked at Leeteuk, he was hard-pressed, even in the dim lighting, not to notice the bags beneath his hyung’s eyes, the lines of worry that seemed to be boring themselves so deeply into his face. Jongdae didn’t know which to feel more guilty about– that he hadn’t noticed Leeteuk’s state till now, or that, in some perverse way, he owed his life to the thing that plagued his beloved hyung. 

In 1859, when a coronal mass ejection slammed into the earth’s magnetosphere, the resulting solar storm killed a few telegraph poles in the northern America and Europe, and that was the end of it. 

In 2113, when a coronal mass ejection slammed into the earth’s magnetosphere, it killed hundreds. Drone-cars fell out of the sky. Navigation systems failed. Mag-trains derailed. Hospitals that couldn’t afford private generators lost power for a whole minute– enough to jeopardise the lives of millions. Governments were still trying to get a sense of just how much information they had lost, and to whom they had lost it. The world lost power for sixty seconds, and when chaos descended, so did six boys, slamming down in a damaged ship on a half-constructed landing strip in Daejeon.

Leeteuk had been the one to find them. They had claimed to have no memories– not of the accident, not of moments prior, not of anything at all– and it had been attributed to the highly volatile astro-fuel that had leaked into the cockpit for a full hour before anyone could pry the titanium doors open and get them out. That they still didn’t seem to have any memories was not cause for concern– they were evaluated, catalogued and dismissed, and that was the end of the matter.

But Leeteuk had stayed. Over the weeks, came Changmin. Then, by default, Taemin, who came for the drama and stayed because he’d fallen in ardent platonic love with Jongin. 

And now, Leeteuk had big government dogs breathing down his neck as he struggled to find a way to predict the next solar storm. It was cheaper to warn everyone of an impending electrical disaster than to actually develop a power system immune to it. 

Jongdae made a mental note to keep an eye out for Leeteuk more. Changmin, too, but Changmin wasn’t head of the department, and was highly skilled at taking power naps. Without Leeteuk, none of them would have anything. The older might not realise exactly how much the six of them owed him, but it was enough for Jongdae to know. And to repay in whatever measly way he could. 

Jongdae looked on fondly as Leeteuk bleated on “–as long as these blasted storm clouds clear in time for the Venus transit, we should be fine–” 

“Oh my God, you are so old and boring, can we just go dance?” Taemin’s eyes rolled so far up that if he’d gotten retinal modifications, Jongdae was certain he’d have seen a perfect scan of his own brain. 

“Yes, please!” Changmin made a show of waking up from his slumber and proceeded to shove them out of the booth. “Jongdae?”

“I’m going to finish my beer,” Jongdae took a big swig from his bottle to demonstrate. 

“Let’s gooooo!” Taemin whined and the trio disappeared into the throng of the dancefloor and Jongdae was left alone at the booth. He couldn’t see either Jongin or Sehun anymore, so his gaze turned to the window. If they had gone to one of the city’s fancier clubs, there would have been a glamour-field over the ceiling, simulating the weather outside. Rent being what it was, Jongdae was content to resort to the mundanity of windows. In the dark, he couldn’t make out much more than the muted light from the buildings opposite, splattered into the droplets on the glass. 

A ribbon of lightning licked between the blocks of high-rises on either side of the street. 

Jongdae closed his eyes and let himself expand into the storm. 

Sometimes, he thought he could feel the whole of Seoul in his heart. 

“Morning Star.”

Jongdae was wrenched out of the clouds and slammed back down onto the cheap vinyl of the booth’s upholstery. Sehun was peering down at him, a frown etched on his face. Jongdae blinked.

“Sorry, what did you say, Hunnie?”

Sehun’s frown deepened. “I said, will you come dance?”

“Me?” Jongdae asked stupidly. “I can’t dance.”

Sehun’s scowl turned so adorable that Jongdae couldn’t find it in himself to say no. “Aish, ok fine! But don’t blame me when you get your toes stepped on and have to sit out your next dance performance.”

“I won’t, hyung,” Sehun said solemnly. 

“And don’t make me buy you another drink if you make me spill yours,” Jongdae warned, casting a wary eye at the polka-dotted umbrella that was peeping cheerily over the rim of Sehun’s glass. 

Sehun immediately plucked out the mini-umbrella and, tucking it behind his ear, upturned the glass, draining it before placing it somewhat precariously back on the table. 

“Now it won’t be a problem, hyung. Will you dance?”

As he looked up at Sehun, so ridiculous and handsome with the pink umbrella behind his ear and his eyebrows drawn in such serious lines, Jongdae wondered if it was possible to resurrect oneself after exploding into tiny little bubbles of squealing glee. 

Glancing down at the pyramid of bottles on the table, Jongdae also wondered how many of them were his and just how much he’d managed to drink without realizing it.

“Alright, you overgrown noodle,” Jongdae sighed exaggeratedly, holding out his arms for Sehun to pull him up by. “Do whatever you want with me.”

Something flashed in Sehun’s eyes, but it was gone a moment later. And before Jongdae could question him, Sehun was already tugging him into the sea of bodies on the dancefloor. 

“Where’s Jongin?”

“Dance battle with Taemin.”

Sure enough, a small circle was forming around Jongin and Taemin, their limbs rippling like water as they twirled around each other. 

“You don’t wanna join?”

“Nini and I don’t compete, you know that, hyung.”

“It’s just playing around.”

Sehun’s expression remained impassive.

Jongdae acquiesced with a small chuckle. “Okay, Hunnie.” 

Jongdae spun the lanky boy around and wrapped his arms around Sehun from behind, like an overgrown barnacle. “You and I won’t have a dance off, because we all know who’d win.” 

“You of course.”

“Always, Hunnie.”

Wiggling his hips, Jongdae pretended to grind to the beat, crooning words that were definitely not the lyrics into Sehun’s shoulder. To complete the sexy display, he grabbed Sehun’s wrists and made the younger boy flap his hands like a chicken, only vaguely in time to the beat. Considering that Sehun had been gliding like a swan across the dancefloor before he’d invited Jongdae, the younger tolerated this arrhythmic abuse with remarkably little complaint. In fact, Jongdae could swear that he heard a giggle emanating from the tall blonde boy.

“You were amazing on stage today.” Jongdae waggled Sehun’s elbows aggressively at people.

“You already said that, hyung.”

“I know, but I need you to hear me,” Jongdae insisted, internally admitting that he was more than a little drunk now that he was on his feet. “It made me so happy to see you two. You looked beautiful. You looked happy.”

Jongdae pulled at the silky material of Sehun’s shirt until the younger boy turned around. Jongdae plastered his hands to the perfect angles of Sehun’s cheekbones, painted in shades of green from the holo-lights. He peered into Sehun’s eyes, trying to get his own to focus so he would see only two. “Are you happy, Hunnie? Are you happy now?”

“You’re thinking too much, hyung,” but Sehun smiled as he pushed Jongdae’s now sweat-rather-than-rain dampened hair from his eyes. “Yes, I’m happy. I’ll always be happy as long as you and Nini are by my side.”

“We’ll always be by your side,” Jongdae promised. 

“I know, hyungie, I know. Now stop looking for excuses not to dance.”

Sehun drew Jongdae to his surprisingly muscular chest, squeezing him tight. “Stop worrying so much. We’re okay, you did everything right. I’m never happier than when I’m dancing on stage with Nini.” Jongdae felt something in his heart simultaneously expand and twist. “I’m having fun. You should, too.”

“I am, Hunnie,” Jongdae reassured, kissing the small tattoo peeping out of the collar of Sehun’s shirt. Sehun swayed them mindlessly from side to side, completely off beat.

The song changed. 

Jongdae knew this one. The bass thrummed up his legs and into his veins through the holo-floor. Their swaying soon fell into the pocket of the beat and, without thinking about it, Jongdae relaxed into Sehun’s chest, content to let him decide their movements. He didn’t protest when Sehun gently turned him around and pulled so Jongdae’s back was pressed to Sehun’s chest. Sehun’s hands tightened on Jongdae’s hips, moving them to the rhythm. Closing his eyes, Jongdae twined his fingers through Sehun’s and allowed himself to lean back. He let himself feel the bass humming in his bones and thunder rumbling outside and the puffs of Sehun’s breath against the back of his neck. 

When Jongdae opened his eyes, Jongin was staring at him. 

Gone was the boyish charisma of Nini, the sweet roundness of his cheeks when he smiled and the endearing puffiness beneath his eyes. This Jongin was all heady darkness, predatorial gaze searing through the crowd. Though he’d promised Jongin he’d never utter the name again, Jongdae always felt in these moments that it was Kai who had come for him, that deadly creature who would have anything he set his eyes on: freedom, revenge, Jongdae. Sehun.

Jongin stalked forward, his darkening gaze never leaving Jongdae’s. Jongdae sucked in a breath, but didn’t move away from Sehun. There was something intoxicating in the lights, the pulsing music, in the way Jongin was prowling towards him, in the way Sehun held his hips, and Jongdae found himself holding Jongin’s stare even as he reached back to curl a hand around Sehun’s neck. 

Jongdae didn’t know what he was trying to do, or what he was expecting. Any hope of figuring that out came to an abrupt halt when Jongin’s lips stretched into that triumphant smirk that told Jongdae that he was exactly where Jongin wanted him. 

He sometimes thought this might be Jongin’s real superpower: no one could resist him.

One second, Jongdae was being distracted by the little rivulet of sweat trickling down Jongin’s collarbones, following it down as far as the collar of his shirt would allow (very far). The next, Jongin was on him. 

Jongdae dimly registered one hand pressed firmly on his waist, just above Sehun’s. The other clamped around his jaw, lifting Jongdae’s chin. Jongin didn’t say anything. He just held Jongdae there, his gaze keeping Jongdae transfixed even as his hand was gentle, his body flowing easily into their rhythm. Jongdae slid his arms around Jongin’s neck, but when Sehun’s hand came to splay across Jongdae’s chest just to keep him there, Jongdae couldn’t help but untangle one hand to clasp his maknae’s bony fingers.

Jongin ran his thumb over Jongdae’s lower lip, and for a moment, Jongdae thought Jongin might kiss him. But, instead, Jongin wrapped his arm around both of them and tugged. Jongdae gasped as he stumbled forward and Jongin’s thigh slipped between his legs, the younger boy pressing himself up against him in all kinds of ways. Now, Jongin was moving with intention. And so was Sehun. 

Though it hadn’t been anything of a battle, Jongdae felt like he would have surrendered anyway, to the pair of hips that were grinding against him. Not to mention the four drinks that had significantly lowered any sense of emotional preservation he had. He doubted he was even moving at this point; he was just hanging there between them, like a puppet waiting for them to pull his strings. 

Which they were.

Jongin’s grip felt almost like a brand through the thin fabric of his shirt, and Jongdae was acutely aware of the two fingers Sehun had hooked into the loop of his belt, thumb grazing bare skin, just once in a while. Jongin was leaning back now, eyes almost aglow as he simply watched, torso mostly still even as his hips commanded Jongdae’s. The lights were a thick magenta and they clung to the sweat on Jongin’s skin and Jongdae felt like everything was far too close, and yet so, so far out of reach. 

But now Jongin was too far away, there was too much space between them, they were giving the universe too much room to screech into the ephemera of this moment. So Jongdae reeled Jongin back in, and Jongin came willingly. Jongdae slumped into the skin of Jongin’s throat and simply allowed himself to stay there. He didn’t know what the other two were doing, where they were looking, what they were trying to do with all this. But he was satisfied in his own ignorance. With Sehun pressed to his back and Jongin to his front, maybe he could shield himself a little longer against that universe that usually railed so harshly against them.

But then it was too much. Jongin and Sehun were everywhere, their scent was in his head, the sound of their breathing filled his ears and Jongdae could feel everything. Jongdae curled his fingers into Jongin’s shirt, trying not do anything more, seek anything more; determined not to be the conduit through which the universe shattered this, whatever this was. But Jongin was nosing at his cheek and Sehun at his neck and –

– the thunder sounded loud enough that the sky itself might have cracked open. 

People screamed and the holo-floor glitched. 

The main lights flickered on. Laughter rippled through the club as people realized that it was only the weather that had scared them. 

Jongdae tore himself away. 

“Hyung?” 

He could feel the weight of two sets of eyes. 

“Need water,” Jongdae shot an unconvincing smile at a random tile on the holo-floor before stumbling towards the bar. 

They found him there a few moments later, drooped over the bar, a water bottle to his head. 

“Are you okay, hyung?” Jongin was innocent as ever, eyes wide and earnest. It was Sehun who was eyeing Jongdae knowingly, a little sadly. 

“Fine. Your old hyung just couldn’t handle his alcohol,” Jongdae mustered up his widest grin, allowing his eyes to scrunch up in a way he knew they both found hard to resist. 

“Aish,” Even as Sehun scoffed, he was grabbing the bottle from Jongdae’s hand and refilling his glass. From somewhere, Jongin produced a plate of ddukbokki and a set of the bar’s glowing chopsticks. He fed the rice cakes in turns to Jongdae, Sehun and himself. 

Jongdae couldn’t help himself; he clutched a sweaty Jongin around the waist and kissed his shoulder, and then reached out to grasp Sehun’s hand.

Again, the thunder boomed, but this time the lights remained steady. 

When the plate of ddukbokki was scraped clean and the ground started to feel much more steady beneath Jongdae’s feet, he cleared his throat, releasing the both of them. “Well, you boys can stay, but I should go– I have the day shift tomorrow.”

Sehun shook his head. “I’m going too, hyung. I have anatomy at eight.”

“Such an industrious boy,” Jongdae said fondly.

“How come you never say that about me?” Jongin whined. “I have morning classes too!”

“Because you complain so much about it that it diminishes your accomplishment,” Jongdae said solemnly. Sehun’s face scrunched into an obnoxious snigger. Just in case Jongin was actually sulking, Jongdae quickly kissed his sullen pout. “You’re an industrious boy, too, Jongini.” 

It was true. Jongin never missed a class, never shirked an assignment, never skipped dance practice even if he was bone-tired, never did anything that might make him seem ungrateful for this new life. 

“So proud of both my boys,” Jongdae felt comfortable expressing this truth in full force, beaming as though he had anything to do with their achievements.

“Oh my god.” Sehun and Jongin glanced at each other. “It’s that time of the night again.”

“Ajhussi time,” Sehun agreed. 

“There’s nothing wrong with a man expressing his pride and joy in his dongsaengs–”

“Okay, ajhussi, time to get you home,” Jongin made a show of rolling his eyes, but he was positively beaming with pleasure. 

After bidding goodbye to the evil ‘Mins Tae-and-Chang’, as they called themselves when they teamed up on the long-suffering Leeteuk (whom they had stranded in the centre of a highly unruly dance circle), the three of them left.

Sehun and Jongin activated the rain-shields in their jackets and Jongdae used the excuse of not having one to keep himself pressed against Jongin. It was only an added bonus that he wouldn’t get drenched again.

“Will you be okay going home in this Sehunnie?” Jongdae tried again to peer into the darkness. Everything was obscured by the thick pelting of rain. 

“Of course, hyung,” Sehun grinned. His rain-shield glowed like a giant blue halo above his head. “The bike maybe second-hand, but it still has infra-red. And a functioning rain shield.”

“Only because I fixed it for you,” Jongdae grumbled.

“And I’ll forever be grateful.” Sehun seemed to sense Jongdae’s displeasure at his being so flippant. “Relax hyung, look, I’ll even put it in self-drive, like normal boring people. And worst comes to worse, I can definitely handle a little storm.” Suddenly, a gust of wind whipped around them and all rain within a ten-foot radius was being flung away. A little sphere of dry space started to form around them. 

“Sehun!” It was rare for Jongin to snap at Sehun.

“Sorry, Nini.” The little vortex dissipated immediately and the rain returned full force. Jongdae touched Jongin’s arm, only to be brushed off. 

Sehun looked a little stricken. “I’m sorry, Nini–” he looked beseechingly at Jongdae, who just shrugged, helpless. This was not a subject on which Jongin compromised.

But Jongin’s fists unclenched. He sighed, breath puffing pink beneath the glow of his rain-shield. “It’s okay.”

A strained smile appeared on Sehun’s face. “I should get going.”

“Bye, Hunnie,” Jongdae said forlornly. He longed to ease the crease between Sehun’s eyebrows but he knew this was something the younger two needed to sort out between themselves.

“Bye, hyung. Bye, Nini.”

They both still received a hug and a kiss on the cheek from him because they had a rule about that, but then Sehun was walking away from them, slumped shoulders bathed in blue light.

It took only a moment’s hesitation for Jongin to spring into action. “Hyung, will you wait beneath the awning for a second? I just need to talk to Hunnie about something– school stuff,” Jongin added as if Jongdae would believe him. 

Jongdae squinted after the maknaes, their forms morphing into silhouettes. Sehun had already tossed his key fob onto the road and his mag-bike was rapidly forming itself next to the pavement. 

The Galactica was a present from the five of them. They had pooled as much money as they could afford in order to buy it for him when he got accepted into university. It was a terribly old bike, the once-upon-a-time sleek black and white lines considered garish in comparison to the transparent and mirrored-steel bodies of the latest mag-bike models. Jongdae had spent three weeks updating its software and scouring old junkshops for slightly upgraded parts. Even as he’d handed Sehun the key fob, he’d worried that the younger would find the bike too old-fashioned, that he might be embarrassed to drive into school on such an old piece of metal polymer. 

He’d had to hand-wash Sehun’s happy tears and snot out of the collar of his jacket that evening. 

And, of course, since it was Sehun, instead of being the weird older kid on the even older bike, he was the school’s resident retro-future heartthrob with a mysterious past and a penchant for vintage machinery and white motorcycle jackets. The theories as to why Sehun was joining school as a slightly older student were far-flung and diverse (committed a crime, had been in witness protection after testifying against his own cyber-gang, was taking care of a sick grandmother, was a former recruit for the first Martian colonies who was now at a loose end since the programme had been shut down, was an environmental activist until he’d decided the plants were finally fine and the humans needed him instead, etc.). Jongdae was just happy that none of the theories was so bizarre as to come close to the truth. 

Now, Jongdae watched through the rain as Jongin’s silhouette threw its arms around Sehun’s neck. The taller boy leaned down till their foreheads touched. The blue and magenta edges of their rain-shields melded together to form a purple ring around their heads. Their outlines drew into one. There was no way Jongdae could hear the words being spoken, not with the torrent between them and him. Suddenly, Jongdae didn’t know whether he wanted to be there, tangled with them, or whether he wanted to disappear altogether. He felt like a voyeur. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes. Jongdae shivered as the rain spat across his cheeks. 

The sky flashed. 

Jongdae opened his eyes.

Jongin and Sehun were drawing apart. Sehun allowed his helmet to materialise over his head and the blue veins of his Galactica glowed into life as its magnets activated, lifting it an inch off the ground. Sehun waved once in Jongdae’s direction before swinging himself onto the bike. The nav-system in his visor blinked on and then he was gliding away, gone in an electric thrum.

Jongin’s gaze was on the ground as he walked back, evidently distracted. When he caught sight of Jongdae, he stopped. 

Jongdae didn’t know when he’d stepped out from under the meager protection of the bar’s doorway, but it dimly registered that he was now soaked to the bone. Jongdae didn’t know how to explain why he was standing in the rain, and he didn’t know what Jongin was seeing in his face. A gust of wind swept through the street. He trembled.

Then Jongin was striding forward, deactivating his rain-shield, grabbing Jongdae around the back of the head, slamming his lips into Jongdae’s, coaxing them apart with his tongue, allowing them both to get drenched, kissing Jongdae like he might leave, kissing Jongdae like neither of them needed to breathe.

Jongdae’s back slammed against rain-slick brick and Jongin gave him a second to miss him before diving back in to devour his tongue. 

“Jongin,” Jongdae murmured into the onslaught. Jongin to nipped his lip in acknowledgement before returning to his original task of conquering Jongdae’s mouth. Jongin’s hands left trails of singing fire in their wake and Jongdae shivered from both the cold and Jongin’s fingertips.

Jongin was starting to make his way down Jongdae’s neck and Jongdae was starting to inhale rainwater. 

“We’re going to fall sick like this,” Jongdae gasped and Jongin chuckled over the mark he’d just sucked into Jongdae’s skin.

“Okay, hyung. Let’s go home.”

Jongdae didn’t know how they got home, didn’t know whether they’d made other people uncomfortable on the mag-train, didn’t care, didn’t remember how they got from the station to the apartment, didn’t know which of them had taken their hands off the other to press their fingerprints into the lock-pad on the front door, didn’t recall at what point they’d managed to shed their clothing, didn’t notice anything but Jongin until the cold rain drops falling on them had turned into the hot spray from the shower. 

And even then, his focus returned only so he could appreciate the rivulets cascading down Jongin’s golden torso and follow them with his tongue.

Jongin groaned as Jongdae dropped to his knees, the younger’s fingers tangling in Jongdae’s hair as Jongdae swallowed him down, letting go to scrabble at the bathroom tiles when it all became too much.

But if Jongdae was expecting some of the heat to abate, for the restless desire careening through his nervous system to temper itself, he was mistaken. It only seemed to flare, even as he knelt there in the rapidly cooling water (despite all technological advances, heating was still expensive and their semi-functional apartment in Hongdae was only semi-functional), his head resting against Jongin’s thigh and his hands clasping Jongin’s fingers.

Fortunately, it seemed he was not alone in his lust-driven thoughts. Jongin slammed the water shut and yanked Jongdae to his feet. A sweet ‘I love you’ was murmured into his lips before Jongdae found himself being simultaneously dried and being led backwards into the bedroom. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and they toppled together. 

Something in the back of Jongdae’s mind was uneasy, a little scared of the desperation that was outlining each of their actions. Jongin and Jongdae had always been passionate, had always been completely gone for each other, but the frenzied edge of their touches felt far too close to the borderline hysteria of their first time together– back when they had just lost everything, while simultaneously gaining everything else, including a chance to be together. Back when they had already been in love for so long and finally got a chance to do something about it. They had cried after; cried from happiness of what they got to keep, from guilt of what they had to leave behind, from grief of how much they had lost to get here. 

And now Jongdae was getting that same feeling. That feeling of life being held together by a spider’s thread, of happiness being merely a dome of mirrored glass, reflecting what he wanted to see until it would shatter under the weight of its own illusion. But nothing had shattered then, he argued with himself, trying to return his attention to the feeling of Jongin’s lips trailing down his neck. Everything was fine. He still had Jongin. They were still–

“Hyung.” A warm palm cupped his cheek. Jongdae looked up to find Jongin staring down at him tenderly. Jongdae knew he was not the only one who could be hypnotized by Jongin’s gaze. Jongin had always had the ability to make a person feel special and beautiful simply by acknowledging them– having his attention felt like a privilege, made the recipient feel like they had done something wonderful to be worthy of it. Jongdae had sometimes wished that he could keep that look just for himself, could jealously guard all of Jongin’s affections. But in Jongdae’s less selfish moments, he also knew this was what he loved so much about Jongin– the younger’s capacity to love was something beautiful and boundless, something to be cherished when it could have perished in all the darkness the younger had endured.

“Hyung, where are you?” 

Jongdae snapped out of his thoughts. He grinned up at his lovely lover. “I’m right here, with you.”

Jongin beamed, sufficiently distracting Jongdae as he brushed a hand up Jongdae’s ribs. Jongdae squealed, scrambling to defend his sides as Jongin decided the best way to punish his hyung for his lack of focus was to tickle him into submission. 

“Jongin-ah!” Jongdae tried curling onto his side, but Jongin caught his arms and pinned them above his head. His knees pressed gently into Jongdae’s thighs, keeping Jongdae spread beneath him. The look in Jongin’s eyes darkened. Jongdae’s giggles caught in his throat. 

“What do you want, hyung?” Jongin whispered. 

Hands still caught in Jongin’s grip, Jongdae freed one of his legs from under the younger and hooked it around the back of Jongin’s thighs. He pulled down. Jongin hissed, releasing Jongdae’s hands to hold himself up. Jongdae used the opportunity to twine his fingers in Jongin’s hair. “I want you,” Jongdae whispered against Jongin’s lips, grinding up.

Jongin moaned, dropping his head into the crook of Jongdae’s neck.

“Okay.” 

Jongin rose up, resuming his conquest of Jongdae’s mouth. Jongdae could feel the hardness pressing up against his thigh, but Jongin’s movements remained slow, the younger gyrating his hips in little circles, just enough to deliberately frustrate and not enough for anything else.

“Jongin-ah!” Jongdae whined his impatience. Jongin giggled against Jongdae’s lips, the tease. Jongdae was just about to complain again when he felt two lubed fingers prodding at his entrance. He gasped.

“Okay, hyung?” 

The levity of the last minute vanished and Jongdae felt Jongin’s presence descend upon him, clinging heavily all over, like he was drowning in honey.

“Please,” Jongdae breathed.

One finger circled gently around his rim before sliding in. Jongdae arched his back in approval, urging Jongin for more. A second finger joined, and then a third, Jongin slowly building up a rhythm. Jongdae started to move with him, pushing his hips down against Jongin’s fingers. 

Lightning flashed through the windows, briefly illuminating the panes of Jongin’s face and the crease of his eyebrows as he focused on opening Jongdae up. Jongdae decided to speed things along, reaching down to grasp Jongin’s cock. Jongin cursed, pulling Jongdae’s hand away and pressing his wrists into the bed above his head once again.

“You are so impatient, hyung,” Jongin growled.

“And you’re too slow!” Jongdae griped. “I just spent the whole evening watching you eye-fuck a hundred people while thrusting your pelvis in all cardinal directions, don’t I deserve–”

“Oh my god,” Jongin sucked a bruise into Jongdae’s Adam’s apple just to get him to shut up. But if the way the younger was hooking Jongdae’s knees over his forearms, it seemed the message was received. They moaned simultaneously as Jongin slid into Jongdae, staying still for a moment as he waited for Jongdae to adjust. Jongdae ran his hands over the firm muscles of Jongin’s back, palming his ass encouragingly. They both jumped when thunder crashed outside and Jongdae whimpered as he felt Jongin shift inside him. 

“That’s not me,” Jongdae clarified regarding the terrible weather outside.

“I know that, hyung,” Jongin caressed Jongdae’s cheek briefly before beginning to move, sweat already beading on his forehead, dripping onto Jongdae’s cheek.

“More,” Jongdae rasped.

Apparently having reached the end of his tolerance for his own teasing, Jongin obliged. Shifting slightly so he could support himself with his elbows, Jongin snapped his hips forward. Jongdae keened. 

“That’s it,” Jongin growled in his ear. He caught Jongdae’s earlobe between his teeth. “I danced for you today, hyung. Will you sing for me tonight?”

Jongdae couldn’t dignify such a cheesy line with an answer, he was too busy doing exactly Jongin asked for. 

Jongdae loved it whenever Jongin took it upon himself to remind him just how well he could move his hips. He wailed as Jongin pounded into him, finally delivering on all the wicked things his eyes had been promising all night. Jongdae allowed himself a brief moment to feel smug that he was the chosen recipient of what that entire audience had been salivating over. 

Jongin knew everything there was to know about Jongdae’s body, and as he angled himself to hit Jongdae in exactly the right spot, Jongdae felt helpless to do anything but simply cling on for dear life. Jongin set his teeth to Jongdae’s collar bone and gripped his thighs harder as he thrust faster, deeper, fucking Jongdae to his own rhythm. 

Pleasure crackled through Jongdae’s body, zinging from deep in his stomach to prickle at his fingertips and toes, blooming his spine into an arch–

Jongdae released himself into that feeling, air flooding his lungs, expanding and expanding–

Lightning flashed. 

Suddenly, Jongdae wasn’t in the room anymore. He wasn’t even in his body anymore. Dark, churning clouds misted his vision and he could feel himself stretching, surging to cover the city. He could see the whole of Seoul. Thunder rumbled. It was followed by eerie silence. Then, the electricity began to build again, a violent, wild sort of thing that Jongdae could not wield; he was only its vessel. For the first time in his life, he felt the particles separate within the clouds. He felt the heavy, negatively charged atoms sink to the bottom of the clouds, the light positive ones zipping to the top. He felt his entire being be ripped in two, the halves screaming towards each other even as they split apart. The emptiness between them vibrated with furious energy. And then it sparked. 

Jongdae gasped as his consciousness slammed back into his body, still beneath Jongin. His hands scrabbled for the bedpost, grabbing the metal just in time to direct the electricity into the floor instead of into Jongin, who had no idea that Jongdae had, just a moment before, become one with the lightning.

“Hyung?” Jongin slowed his hips. He moved to pull out. 

“No! Stay!” Jongdae’s breathing was too fast and his voice cracked, but he curled his legs around the younger, tangling his fingers into the younger’s hair, clinging to him to make sure he didn’t move away. Realising that he’d startled Jongin, Jongdae tried to ease his tone. “Please, stay Jongini,” he implored. “Finish, please, I want it…”

Jongin growled and his hips began to move again, his rhythm more erratic as he now sought his own pleasure. Jongdae’s nerves felt like they were on fire, and he persuaded himself that it was just oversensitivity, just Jongin, that his mind had just visualized sensation and nothing more.

Jongin purred into Jongdae’s skin as he came and Jongdae wrapped himself even more tightly around the younger, trying to anchor himself. Slowly, with Jongin’s, his own breathing eased and he began to feel more solid. 

Jongin pulled out and slumped onto Jongdae, panting into his shoulder between increasingly lazy kisses. Jongdae was more than happy to let Jongin lie there, until things got uncomfortably sticky and it struck Jongdae that his boyfriend was around sixty-five kilograms of pure muscle that was pressing mostly into his liver. 

“Jongini, get up,” Jongdae slapped gently at the younger’s back. “We need to clean up.”

“We did clean up– that’s what the shower was for!”

“And now we’re sweaty and gross, so we have to get up.”

“You’re sweaty and gross.” An actual child.

“Alright, up,” Jongdae stopped coddling his man-child boyfriend, pinching his ass.

Jongin yelped and tumbled off Jongdae. “Please, hyung,” Jongin pouted from where he was already snuggling into his pillow. “I’m so tired. Didn’t I dance well? Can’t I just sleep?”

Once again, Jongdae felt just how helpless he was for this boy. 

“Fine,” he sighed. “But just this once!”

Jongin was already snoring. 

Jongdae rolled his eyes. Grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom, he cleaned up Jongin as best as he could (his efforts thwarted not by any attempt to be gentle, but rather because his boyfriend’s body was incredibly unwieldy when he was dead to the world like this) and slid some boxers on him. Jongdae indulged himself in another shower, happy to use up the apartment’s second wind of hot water supply without feeling guilty. 

As steam clouded up the bathroom, Jongdae sighed. Perhaps he really had imagined what had happened. Maybe he had drunk too much. Maybe he was tired– he’d been taking extra security shifts lately to make sure they could stay on top of the rent. Maybe it was just this persistent weather– maybe it was messing with his head. 

Whatever it was, he felt its grip on him ease. The tension drained from him, swirling with the water down the drain. He found his mind wandering to earlier in the evening, back to Jongin and Sehun’s performance. Two years ago, he’d have never imagined that the two would be dancing together, that Sehun would be studying to become a doctor, that Jongin would be having the time of his life at a small, but rapidly growing dance company. He couldn’t have imagined it. Until recently, having dreams hadn’t been an option. He smiled to himself. Maybe if he got promoted to senior security officer, they could move to a bigger apartment where Jongin wouldn’t endanger himself or the furniture if he decided to practice a little at home. Jongdae decided to ask his boss about it, maybe ask Leeteuk to put in a good word. No, Jongdae shook his head to himself, Leeteuk had already done too much for them.

These thoughts kept him preoccupied as he toweled himself off. Opening the mirrored cabinet above the sink, he pulled out his toothbrush and tooth-paste. 

His eyes caught sight of the floss. 

_(–Hyung, it’s not enough to just brush, your teeth will fall right out of your head if you don’t floss._  
_– I don’t think that’s–_  
_– But how do you **know ** hyung? I would still make out with you if you had no teeth– you know I’ll love you no matter what– but how would you feel?_  
_– Oh my God, you are so irritating._  
_– Love you, too, hyung.) _

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _

Growling to himself, Jongdae placed the toothbrush back and pulled out the floss. He closed the cupboard, eyes flicking up to the mirror.

_ _ __ _ _

The floss clattered into the sink.

_ _ __ _ _

He would have screamed if his voice hadn’t abandoned him.

_ _ __ _ _

Staring at him from the mirror was not his own reflection. In the mirror was that hooded figure that haunted all his nightmares, that terrible face that he’d never wanted to see again; that gruesome red skull with the eerie yellow glow from its eye-sockets that substituted for eyes. The crimson skin of its jaw split open to smile. 

_ _ __ _ _

“It’s been a while, Morning Star.”

_ _ __ _ _

Jongdae trembled. 

_ _ __ _ _

His lips parted involuntarily to name the thing that had kept all of them in captivity for five years, to name the thing they had escaped. To name the thing they had been running from and had hoped to never find again. To name the thing that had killed Zitao, Yifan, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol. Baekhyun. 

_ _ __ _ _

“Red Force.”

_ _ __ _ _

The lights went out. 

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ __ _ _


	2. The Lucky Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what Jongdae is running from, and what exactly happened to the Exos... Definitely rewatch 'Lucky One' if you feel like having visuals (though we deviate a bit from canon!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned, there is some violence/gore/death in this chapter. It's not too much (definitely nothing compared to most things on Netflix :P), but just be warned... This is an anxious time, and I don't want to trigger anybody. But it was necessary to the plot because we need to know what Jongdae has lost, and what he has left to lose...
> 
> Please stay healthy and safe, everyone!

Jongdae woke Jongin up as he usually did: by yelling loudly and rolling on top of him.

“_Oof_,” Jongin grunted as Jongdae sprawled himself perpendicularly over the younger’s abdomen. To his credit, Jongin offered no complaint. He just tickled at Jongdae’s tummy and activated his holo-console as he slowly submitted to being awake. They listened to his messages (including one from Sehun confirming that he’d reached home safely– Jongdae may or may not have tried to stroke holograph-Sehun’s hair, but Jongin hadn’t worn his glasses so yet so Jongdae assumed he’d gotten away with it, until Jongin pinched his side playfully).

“Hyung, what the hell happened to our lights?” Jongin emerged from the bedroom later, shivering slightly, presumably from the cold shower he’d had to take.

“The storm blew out the building’s generator last night,” Jongdae didn’t even feel guilty about lying. “They said they’ll fix it by this evening. Breakfast?”

Jongdae watched fondly as Jongin shoveled rice and fish stew into his face, chattering between bites about the dance academy’s next project, his courses, the one class he shared with Sehun where the professor had learnt to hate them because they were always talking. 

“How is work, hyung?” Jongin managed to say without spraying rice everywhere. “What have I missed since all the dance practice picked up?”

“Same old,” Jongdae shrugged. “Watching Leeteuk scamper around like a headless chicken is entertaining.”

Jongin snorted. Holographic numbers appeared at his eyelevel. “Holy shit, is that the time– I gotta go!” Jongin slithered off the breakfast bar and scampered around the apartment, gathering his things with none of the grace of the dancer he had been the night before. Backpack somehow slung around his neck and hair in absolute disarray, he had almost skidded out the door when he returned. 

“Bye, hyung.”

One unnecessarily filthy kiss later, he was gone. 

Jongdae sighed and adjusted his pants slightly. Jongin may not teleport anymore, but he still moved like someone who wanted to be anywhere, at any time– maybe everywhere at every time. 

Jongdae began the mundane task of clearing the plates, the holographic numbers hovering at the corner of his eye reminding him that he was due to leave in twenty minutes.

“_So the Morning Star chose our deadly Kai, is it?_” 

The kitchen rang with the sound of breaking ceramic. Jongdae cursed, kneeling to brush the jagged fragments into his hand. He ignored the needlessly alarmed beeping of his health monitor when he cut his thumb.

“_Ah, and our young wind-rider as well… how sweet._”

“Get out of my head,” Jongdae gritted through his teeth. Once Jongdae had seen his former master’s face in the mirror, it seemed that the dam had been broken. Jongdae couldn’t shut him out and the Red Force talked to him whenever he wanted. 

“_Unexpected, however_,” the Red Force continued, unfazed. “_I always thought it would be Baekhyun that you’d choose. Always together, and the way your powers complemented each other, the light and the lightning. So beautiful._”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jongdae snarled. “Don’t you dare–” Jongdae’s breathing picked up. He dropped the shards of plates, grabbing the counter for support. Blood was dripping down his hands. “Don’t you dare say that name.”

“_What name?_” Jongdae could feel the Red Force’s sneer in his mind. “_Baekhyun?_”

“Shut up!”

“_Why?_” The Red Force sounded amused. “_Why should it bother you? You left him behind, didn’t you? You ran off with your boyfriends and left him. And Chanyeol. And Kyungsoo. Not to mention Zitao and Yifan. Now, I suppose that was real abandonment… _”

Jongdae’s thoughts had devolved into a single silent scream.

The Red Force chuckled. “_So easy to upset you, young Morning Star. You used to be the strongest of my children– you’ve gotten soft._”

“I’m not your child!”

“_Then whose child are you?_”

Jongdae didn’t have an answer to that question. 

\----------------------------------------

“_Do you know why I call you Morning Star?_”

Jongdae forced himself to focus on the skyscrapers blurring past outside, the dips and lifts of the drone-taxi as it navigated the traffic of the morning commute. If he pretended he couldn’t hear the voice in his head, perhaps it would stop.

“_I called you Morning Star because you were my brightest one, my most cherished child. You always showed the most promise._”

Despite himself, Jongdae scoffed. 

“_You think I’m lying, Morning Star?_”

“I think you’re full of shit. I was never your ‘most cherished’, never your brightest, not in your eyes. That was Zitao and Yifan–”

“_Is that jealousy I detect?_”

“I’ll admit, I was envious at first,” Jongdae momentarily gave up on acting as though he wasn’t hearing his captor of five years speak in his head. “Then I realized what it meant to have your attention. What a curse it was. You led them on. You pushed Yifan and Zitao to reach beyond the limits of their powers. And they wanted to please you so badly. Just like us. And look where that got them? Dead because you no longer knew how to control them.”

“_Come now, Morning Star, surely you understand. Kris and Tao's powers had simply become more volatile than I anticipated. You know the predicament I was in– it was not like your powers, or Suho’s or even Baekhyun’s. Those two were literally ripping through the fabric of space and time. If I hadn’t stopped them, there would have been nothing else. The very earth that you seem to adore so much would have been nothing but a disappeared blip on a temporal timeline._” 

“Please. All you had to do was collar them. Like you collared the rest of us.”

“_I would have, Morning Star. But it was simply too dangerous to keep them around._” Jongdae hated how loving the voice sounded, how placating, how the words caressed the walls of his skull. The Red Force spoke to him like he was a dear child. “_I gave them the option of returning their powers to me. They could have just handed them over and then none of this would have happened. But they chose to die. Now, how can I be held responsible for that?_”

“And what would you have done with space and time? You would have torn us all apart. Then you would have put us back together, and then you’d have torn us to shreds again.”

“_My, what a morbid view you have of me, Morning Star._”

“You killed them in front of us.” So many other days were gone from Jongdae’s mind, but he doubted he would ever be able to erase that one. The day both Yifan and Zitao unlocked the full potential of their abilities after years of training. Yifan claimed to have briefly glimpsed a parallel universe. Zitao said he’d seen all of their timelines, from start to finish. Each possible outcome. 

Red Force had praised Zitao affectionately and Zitao had preened.

And then the Red Force had stuck a pair of surgical scissors into Zitao’s neck. 

Zitao had died instantly.

The Red nurses had restrained Yifan, but already the world around them was warping into something strange and distorted, melting into itself from Yifan’s grief. The twelve of them had been trained for combat, but not for loss. Had Yifan known how to recover in a such a moment, perhaps everything could have been different. Had the Red Force killed Yifan first, perhaps everything could have been different. But the Red Force was smarter than all of them. He knew that the second he realized something was wrong, Zitao could have undone everything. So Zitao went first. 

And Yifan had fought. Knowing the Red Force couldn’t take his power back unless Yifan surrendered it, Yifan had refused. 

They had tried to sedate him. 

Jongdae was sure they would have kept Yifan alive, would have tortured Yifan until he gave up his power. But even while Yifan was out cold, his power continued to wreak havoc. The space ship had begun to warp into itself. So the Red nurses had tripled the dosage, and Yifan was put to sleep forever. 

“You gave Yifan the option. You didn’t give Zitao a chance, unless somehow gargling your own blood is a choice.”

“_To the contrary, Morning Star_,” The Red Force chided gently. Jongdae thought he caught a glimpse of that red skull reflected back at him in the taxi window. Then it was gone. “_Tao had just seen the timeline of all of your lives. Including his own. He knew what choice he was about to make._”

It took a moment for the ramifications of that comment to sink in. 

“Oh my God,” Jongdae gripped the seat beneath him. “Oh my God, he knew.” 

He knew he was breathing too fast when his health chip threw his heart monitor into the corner of his vision. The numbers were rapidly spiking upwards. Tears blurred his vision. 

“Oh my god. Taozi knew you were going to kill him.” 

Somehow the thought was worse than Zitao being killed unawares. In that moment, Zitao had known all possible outcomes of his life and he had allowed himself to be killed. He had saved them, Jongdae realized. The Red Force with Zitao’s powers would have been unstoppable– they would never have been able to escape. If Zitao had not been killed, Jongdae didn’t know when they’d have realized that they needed to escape. Zitao had sacrificed himself.

But why hadn’t Zitao simply turned back time so they all could be saved? Had he not had the chance? Had all his timelines led to the same place?

Jongdae tried to calm his heartbeat before the health chip decided to contact Jongin. 

How many friends had sacrificed themselves for them?

“_I can promise you that I had never planned to harm either Kris or Tao_,” the Red Force said. “_As you said, they were my darlings. They were so close to perfection. And if they had obeyed, they could have been the first to save this little world you call home._”

“Save it? Save it from what? Yourself?” 

“_From its own chaos, Morning Star, you know this_,” the Red Force chided gently. 

“Why are you in my head?”

“_Because I am returning, Morning Star. I am coming for you._”

\----------------------------------------

“Are you ready?”

Jongdae clutched Baekhyun’s hand as they were wheeled into the Lab. 

“No talking!” The Red Nurse’s was inscrutable as ever behind the red visor, but the sting of her slap across his knuckles conveyed enough. 

Jongdae parted hands with Baekhyun and resumed staring obediently upwards. He still didn’t know what was beneath the Red Nurses’ masks; were they human, AI, anything else, Jongdae had once been burning to know. No longer.

The sight of the cold chrome walls of the ship’s hull bubbling into the padded white ceiling of the Laboratory had always set anxiety’s tiny, gnawing teeth into him, even when he had once called himself happy here. But this time, it was terror that wrapped its maws around him, amplified by the magnitude of what needed to happen in the next ten minutes. The machines beeped coldly from inside the cushioned walls and, without moving his head, he could see seven of the ten IV stands, the IV bags filled with the innocuously transparent fluid that would poison them and make them amenable. He desperately wanted to raise his head to see Jongin, to confirm that he was there, to just reassure himself, if not the younger. But he held himself in check, knowing that to act even slightly out-of-character could jeopardise their plans. As his gurney was swung into place, he schooled his features to display only the spectrum of emotions that Kyungsoo allowed himself to emote. 

Minseok, Kyungsoo and Luhan would be inscrutable, always impossible to read. Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongin would also be fine– a nervous heartbeat was likely to go unnoticed in those whose very powers made their blood zip through their systems. Jongdae was only worried about himself, Sehun and Junmyeon, afraid a stumble in their pulse would betray them. 

An invisible force closed the fingers of Jongdae’s right hand into a fist. They must have already removed Luhan’s collar. Jongdae allowed the familiar feeling of Luhan’s powers to act on him, squeezing his fist, wishing he could feel more than the ghost of Luhan’s hand in his. But if Luhan couldn’t hold his hand right now, this was the next best thing.

Jongdae’s pulse settled even as his mind raced.

He visualized everyone’s positions, went over the plan again and again, revised each stage, each contingency, made himself recite who was paired with whom. Baekhyun and Chanyeol, a defensive heat-power paired with an offensive one; Junmyeon and Minseok, water-based powers to complement each other; Jongin and Yixing, the best hand-to-hand fighters together; Luhan and Kyungsoo, because if they took the gravity away from Kyungsoo, Luhan would give it back to him. And Jongdae would be with Sehun, and he would die before he let anything happen to their youngest pup. And if he didn’t, surely Luhan would rip his skeleton straight out his skin.

They didn’t have much time. Baekhyun had only had a small window alone with his powers– he’d felt the solar flare coming just days before. But it was their shot. Baekhyun had already done his work. He had tweaked the solar flare’s trajectory– just slightly. It would now pass just a mile from the ship’s path, disrupting the ship’s communications and frying all its systems. If they managed to clear that mile before the Red Force could follow, they would be free. Forever. 

They had less than an hour to do this.

It was time. 

Blue liquid clouded into their IVs and they all mimicked feeling its soporific effects, slumping into the unyielding plastic of their bedding. Jongdae felt the Red Nurse’s delicate fingers fiddle around his neck. The metal pinched into his skin and then the collar was coming undone. 

By now, everyone would be feeling their powers singing through their veins. For Jongdae, the whole room exploded back to life, the electrical impulses contained within every object in the small space firing together to form an image that compensated for his current lack of vision. 

They took Yixing first, just as Chanyeol had guessed. Yixing’s power was an inscrutable, ephemeral thing, like Zitao’s and Yifan’s, and he would be the next to be tested to his limits. To see how far the Red Force could push him before the power turned inward, growing tissue that need not be there, immunizing Yixing against things his body was not supposed to fight. Jongdae had had nightmares, visions of Yixing riddled with cancers and turning him gaunt with mundane infections, tortured as his body healed itself even as it killed itself until the balance of scales finally tipped. Or until Yixing gave up his power– gave up healing to a creature that would never heal anything in its lifetime. 

After that was done, they would take Luhan. 

But no. Jongdae had washed Zitao’s blood off his own clothes, had cleaned the vomit from Yifan’s chin before they put him in the incinerator and cremated him. He wouldn’t do it again.

Jongdae could see Yixing’s benign smile in his head as he allowed the Red Nurses to take him. Electricity hummed into his fists. 

Jongdae waited to feel the doors open. 

“Now!”

This is how it happened:

Last week, Baekhyun had felt the flare coming. Five days ago, they had formulated the plan to escape. Three days ago, Chanyeol had generated enough smoke during their mandatory training sessions for Jongin to disappear and replace the sleep-inducing blue solution with a benign version of their own concoction. Junmyeon and Kyungsoo had spent a sleepless night perfecting it to look like the original, and act like nothing more than saline. There were cameras at every corner, of course, but Baekhyun had bent the light around Jongin so he wouldn’t be seen.

And now, as the doors slid open, Jongdae scrunched his eyes shut as Baekhyun made the lights flare to blinding brilliance. The Red Nurses squealed, the only non-prescribed sound Jongdae had ever heard emit from their lips. 

And then Kyungsoo shattered the room. 

Debris flung itself inwards and Luhan guided it to the Red Nurses, pinning them beneath chunks of concrete. Jongdae let his power spider its way into the electrical grid, shorting out systems across the entire ship. Every camera went dark, every monitoring device shut down. The corridors came aglow with the emergency lights as the mains went out. Only the engines were allowed to whirr at full power, and now they moved the ship to coordinates of Jongdae’s choosing. 

“Let’s go!”

Luhan’s powers cleared their pathway to the door and then the labyrinth of the ship was open before them.

Had Jongdae watched the earth movies that he knew now, perhaps he would have chosen this moment to be dramatic– perhaps he would have grabbed Jongin around the neck and kissed him with a bruising passion. Perhaps he should have declared his undying love, that he would fall before their enemy before he would let Jongin come to harm, that he would see Jongin in another life– perhaps in another universe¬– if it was not their destiny to walk together in this one.

But, Jongdae had never seen a movie in his life, and Jongin already knew all of that, so what would have been the point of telling him?

Jongin grabbed Yixing, grinned once at Jongdae and disappeared. 

“Hunnie, let’s move.”

Apparently feeling more demonstrative, Sehun and Luhan kissed ardently enough to slice right through the adrenaline-charged tension of the moment and make everyone uncomfortable, and then they all split up. There were no goodbyes. 

Jongdae focused on the darkened corridor gaping open before him. Their mission in all this was relatively simple, but paramount– a basic axel around which the spokes of everything else turned. They were to secure the getaway car. 

“This way.” 

They had never stepped out of line, had never revolted, certainly not all together.  
With the communication systems down and their Red Nurse attendings currently buried beneath rubble, it would take a little time for the Red Force to understand exactly what had happened– exactly what they had done. It would take even longer to figure out where to send the next batch of Red Nurses, how to collar ten mutant (is that what they were? Mutated?) boys, each engineered with the all the power of a primal element, and seething with all the rage and recklessness of young men who had just realized that their home was actually a cage. 

There would be a contingency plan though, and Jongdae wasn’t planning to wait for it to kick in.

They kept to the walls of the corridor, creeping past the emergency lights that faltered every time Jongdae passed. Jongdae forced himself to reel his power in– they wouldn’t be caught just because he was trailing an electrical semaphore. 

Footsteps in eerie sync sounded from the corridor ahead. Jongdae held out an arm, keeping Sehun tucked into the shadows. A group of Red Nurses trotted past, apparently concerned with mechanical failure, but not yet attuned to what had caused it. Sehun’s heart galloped beneath Jongdae’s palm. When the Nurses rounded the corner, Jongdae allowed them to move again.

“This way.”

They were almost to the control room when the explosion happened.

The whole ship rocked to the side and Sehun caught hold of Jongdae to stop him from sliding into view. 

Red Nurses burst forth from the control room, chittering as they scurried in direction of the commotion. Jongdae shuddered at their strange unison, which seemed so much more jarring when the environment around them had lost its order.

“Perfect timing, Chanyeol,” Jongdae breathed, darting into the control room, Sehun close on his heels. “Hunnie, watch the door.”

Jongdae scampered to the computer deck that controlled all the operations across the ship. Jongdae had no interest in any of them but this: placing his palm on the console, he retrieved the section of code that would unlock the tiny space module secured deep in the underbelly of the spaceship. He would never remember the sequence of numbers and letters, but his powers would know to replicate its electronic signature. The Red Force had taught him this. 

“You are not authorized to be here.”

Jongdae didn’t even think. Lightning leapt from his palm. He didn’t know if the Nurses had hearts, but whatever machinery it was that animated this one, he arrested it. She went down. 

“Hyung,” Sehun breathed. “Is she dead?”

“I don’t know, Hunnie, and I don’t care,” Jongdae said brusquely, feeling like he did indeed care a little too much. Turning away from the twitching body on the floor, he placed his palms upon the computer console, willing his electricity to conjure up the camera footage across the ship. Under his command, the cameras blinked back to life. 

A single glance at the screen had told him that everything was going according to plan.

That should have been Jongdae’s first warning sign.

Jongdae felt the positions of all the cameras across the ship, letting the web of connections imprint to his mind. Then he made the lenses go dark. “No more monitoring,” Jongdae told Sehun.

When Sehun and he wormed their way into the shuttle bay, they were met with the relieved faces of Junmyeon and Minseok.

“Where are the Red Nurses?” Jongdae hissed as they all crouched needlessly behind the massive metal crates that were scattered across the deck. There was no one in the shuttle docks but them.

“Don’t know,” Junmyeon whispered back. “Jongin dropped us off a minute ago, we haven’t seen anyone since.” He was covered in a layer of nervous sweat, eyes darting around frantically, the ugly white vinyl of his uniform squeaking with each tensing of his muscles tensed. It was unfair, Jongdae thought idly, that Junmyeon remained devastatingly handsome even in this state.

“A full minute ago…” Jongdae muttered. 

“Maybe they haven’t figured out where we are yet?” Minseok suggested, cat-like eyes clear as ever even as he kept a tight fist around the end of Junmyeon’s jacket. 

“Maybe…” Jongdae couldn’t bring himself to sound convinced as he eyed the narrow bridge that stretched to their right, empty and unguarded. At the other end of the raised metal platform, the shuttle was waiting, theirs for the taking. 

Closing his eyes, Jongdae concentrated, taking care not to use too much of his power. The only large electrical signatures in the entire ship were coming from the dormant engines and a single bright spot in one corner– Baekhyun. And if Baekhyun was alright, Chanyeol was too.

He opened his eyes in time to see Jongin and Yixing blink into existence. His and Jongin’s eyes met briefly before Jongin was gone again. 

“Any trouble?” Jongdae eyed the handful of nox-flowers in Yixing’s hand. 

“Nothing significant,” Yixing smiled, gentle as ever even as he prowled forward with cat-like grace, scanning the area. 

There were enough of them now. It was time to prepare.

“Get to the bridge,” Jongdae instructed. “We’ll wait for the others at the other end– if the Nurses appear, defend the shuttle. At all costs, you understand?”

Junmyeon clutched Jongdae’s arm briefly before they moved, creeping out from behind the crates. Sehun shadowed Jongdae.

“Luhan and Kyungsoo are late,” Sehun murmured. 

At that exact moment– as if he’d timed it– Jongin appeared, Kyungsoo and Luhan in tow. Sehun darted forward to wrap himself around Luhan. 

Jongin pulled Jongdae aside, cupping his neck to speak into his ear. Jongdae allowed himself a brief nip at Jongin’s neck. 

“Didn’t see any Nurses near them– they probably followed Baekhyun and Chanyeol to the other end of the ship,” Jongin murmured, supposedly for Jongdae alone, but his voice echoed in the empty space.

“They made quite a spectacle,” Kyungsoo agreed wistfully, no doubt having wanted to inflict his own damage. 

“Nini checked the vicinity,” Luhan said once he and Sehun had extricated themselves from each other. “There are no Red Nurses near here either.”

The nagging feeling that had been clawing at the pit of Jongdae’s stomach now crawled up his spine. Lightning stung at his fingertips. 

A hand clasped his and Jongdae forced the electricity to dissipate.

“What’s the matter, hyung?” Jongin asked softly.

Jongdae shook his head and pulled away. Ripping the glove off his hand, he knelt and pressed his palm to the floor. He closed his eyes. Sweat beaded at his forehead as he tried to sift between the larger electrical signatures of the ship and Baekhyun. He frowned as the electrical impulses– or lack thereof– confirmed Luhan’s words. There were no Nurses near them. 

But there were no Nurses anywhere. He could feel Chanyeol, next to Baekhyun, somewhere in the depths of the ship. But there was no one else. He couldn’t feel the Red Force. In all versions of this plan– even its worst-case scenario– Jongdae had relied upon knowing where their enemies were. Right now, it was as if the Red Force and his minions didn’t exist. But there was no way the Red Force would simply watch them escape.

Unless he thought they wouldn’t.

“Fuck.” Jongdae tried to calculate the myriad things that were about to go wrong, and how he was supposed to still get everyone on that ship. Before the solar flare ripped through them. 

“We need to disperse– Jongin, we need to scatter!” Jongdae blindly reached the person closest to him– Minseok– and thrust him at Jongin. 

“What– hyung, we only have seventeen minutes left!” Jongin protested, even as his arms drew around their eldest brother. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Jongdae said urgently. “But you need to separate us, now, or we’re sitting d–!”

The last of his words disappeared in a wheeze as Jongdae was flung backwards. He slammed painfully into the metal wall of the ship before sliding in a crumpled heap to his knees. He could taste salt and metal, and drops of red dotted the floor in front of him. The others had been hit, too, each of them scattered outwards from some unknown blast zone. 

“What the hell–” Around him, he heard similar groans of pain and confusion. 

And then Kyungsoo screamed. 

Jongdae shook off his disorientation, lightning leaping to his hands has he searched for the source of the threat. 

The sight in front of him forced the air from his lungs. He felt like he’d been shot into the vacuum outside without a helmet, his lungs compressing under their own weight.

“What the fuck?” Minseok breathed. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

Jongdae flung the lightning from his palms. 

The metal crates that had been flying at them slammed into the walls. 

Jongdae drew the electricity back into him, allowing the conductivity of the metal to amplify it. Lightning crackled at his fists. He staggered to his feet, swiping the blood from his face. 

“Luhan. Why?”

“I can’t let you escape.”

It was as though Luhan’s gentle features had been re-etched in more jagged lines. 

Jongdae spied a form slumped at his feet. 

“Soo!”

Luhan let go of Kyungsoo’s collar and the younger crumpled to the ground, unmoving. Luhan had turned his gravity against him, paralyzing him.

The metal crates rose again.

“Minseok!”

Minseok was already there, freezing the crates to the walls. Luhan broke them free with ease. But he didn’t attack. He kept the crates floating above his head, warping them into jagged metal forms. He seemed to be waiting for something. 

“Hannie, what are you doing!” Sehun’s breathing stuttered. Even from several feet away, Jongdae could see the way he was trembling. Jongdae ran to him, only to have a massive metal sphere flung at him, forcing him backwards. Keeping them apart, Jongdae realised. 

Luhan looked unphased. “I can’t let you leave, baby. Don’t listen to Jongdae and Chanyeol. We belong here. I can’t let you make this mistake.”

“Is it the Red Force? Is he making you?” Sehun was quaking. A wind began to pick up in the stagnant atmosphere of the ship. 

“Making me? No, my darling,” Luhan’s face softened as he responded to his lover. Jongdae felt a spark of hope ignite inside him– maybe Luhan was not lost to them yet. “The only person trying to make me do what I don’t want to do is Jongdae over here.”

“What does the Red Force have over you, Luhan?” Jongdae growled. He dodged yet another metal projectile.

“Nothing, Morning Star,” Luhan smiled easily. “The Red Force simply showed me the truth. He showed me what awaits us on earth.”

“Hannie, what is this?” Sehun croaked.

“There is nothing for us on earth, Hunnie,” Luhan said, as if he were talking to a child. “You and I, Jongdae and Junmyeon, Chanyeollie– we have nothing on that planet. We were forgotten there long before the Red Force took us in and gifted us with the power of gods. Nobody mourned our absence these past five years.”

Sehun blinked and then looked at Jongdae. Jongdae had no answer to offer. He’d never considered anything other than their freedom and safety. He hadn’t entertained finding anything more than sanctuary on earth, had certainly never contemplated rebuilding from anything that had come before. He had no memories of that time. But perhaps the others didn’t feel that way?

“You were an orphan, Hunnie,” Luhan said gently. “You were living on the streets. Chanyeol lived with an abusive drunk of a father and was lucky to go a month without a broken bone.”

Minseok hissed. 

Luhan persisted, “Our fearless leader here was in and out of prison, left to rot his whole young life–” Jongdae saw the barest tick of Junmyeon’s jaw. “And you, Hunnie,” Luhan turned his doe-like eyes back to Sehun. “You had no family to take care of you, not until the Red Force brought you here.”

Jongdae took advantage of Luhan’s momentary distraction to run to Sehun, wrapping his arms around the boy. 

“Ah, Jongdae, brains and brawn,” Luhan observed sardonically, but made no effort to separate the two. “Would you care to know your story, the goriest of them all?”

“I don’t need the past, Luhan,” Jongdae snarled. “I only need the future.”

“It’s fitting, since they’re one and the same,” Luhan sneered. “But I will say, you made a better lab rat up here than down there.”

“Jongin, don’t!” 

It was with visible effort that Jongin seemed to hold himself back from lashing out, brothers-in-arms be damned.

“That’s right, Nini,” Luhan smirked, eyes not wavering from Jongdae. “Be a good boy and do as your master tells you.”

Jongdae ignored the jibe, but he couldn’t help the way his skin crawled as Luhan became less and less recognizable with each passing minute. 

“How do you know all this about us?” Sehun’s voice quavered. Jongdae tightened his hold. 

For a moment, Luhan lost his air of mockery. “I know because I asked the Red Force. I wanted to know where my scars came from– the ones Yixing learnt to heal. That was earth for me, Hunnie. The people who were supposed to love me gave me scars. I think I would have wished I was an orphan.”

“You never told me,” Sehun whispered.

“Because it didn’t matter,” Luhan soothed. “It would have only made you sad. But when you all decided you wanted to leave… I had to do something.”

Jongdae took this for the confirmation that it was. The Red Force knew everything about their plan. Luhan had given them all up.

There was no more time.

“Junmyeon, get the others to the ship!” Jongdae growled. Lightning gathered in his palm. “Minseok, you’re with me. GO!”

Jongdae blasted his lightning at Luhan. 

“No!” Sehun shrieked.

Beside him, Minseok added to the barrage on Luhan, wicked-sharp stalactites of ice shooting from his fingertips. Around him, the air was beginning to crystalise from the cold. Jongdae knew Luhan would dodge their every move. But the point wasn’t to harm Luhan. It was to distract him.

“Kai!” Jongdae roared.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jongdae saw Jongin wink out of existence. 

When the teleporter next appeared, it was with his fist connecting with Luhan’s jaw. 

Luhan staggered backwards. Before he could respond, Jongin disappeared again, this time appearing to Luhan’s left, jamming his elbow into the soft space beneath Luhan’s ribcage. Luhan screamed, clutching at his side as his other hand raised to capture Jongin. But Jongin was too fast. The teleporter rained blows upon Luhan, keeping him on the defensive. Luhan could do little more than use his powers to dampen the weight of Jongin’s punches. And he was flagging. 

Jongin teleported behind Luhan, landing a vicious kick to the base of his spine. Luhan went sprawling. 

But even as Jongin dove towards Kyungsoo, Jongdae’s gaze was captured by the other man– their brother– on the ground. 

Luhan’s features were twisted with a hatred Jongdae had never seen before. Beside him, the metal contorted like it was elastic. Jongdae’s breath caught in his chest–

It was too late to call out a warning.

Luhan flicked his wrist. 

Jongin was gone in a blip.

Without Kyungsoo. 

Jongdae twisted around frantically, searching.

When Jongin reappeared, he was at the centre of the shuttle bridge. 

Or rather, fifteen feet above it.

Jongdae shrieked as Jongin came crashing down into the titanium in a sickening crunch of bone and flesh. He didn’t get up. 

“YIXING!” Jongdae screamed for the healer as he threw all his lightning at Luhan, no longer caring whether it hurt him or not. 

“Go!” Junmyeon yelled, transforming Minseok’s ice shards into bullets of water.

Jongdae skidded to his knees beside Jongin’s crumpled form. Blood seeped thickly from a wound at his temple and Jongdae could tell his arm was broken in two places. Possibly his ribs too. 

“Jongin, please…” Jongdae’s hands shook as he turned Jongin onto his back and the worst wound came in sight. A shard of metal had lacerated his side, flaying it open even as the metal remained lodged in his muscle.

“Jongdae, move,” Yixing shoved Jongdae out of the way, palms running over Jongin, assessing the damage. With no preamble, Yixing yanked the metal from Jongin’s side. Blood gushed, pooling beneath them, staining the white knees of Yixing’s uniform, seeping into those pristine shoes. Yixing seemed not to notice, his hands pressed firmly against the open wound. In a daze, Jongdae looked down at himself. His uniform, his gloves. He was smeared in red. Jongin’s red. 

“–dae!”

Jongdae’s head snapped up. Yixing’s lips were moving, but the words were reaching Jongdae as though underwater– garbled and unintelligible. 

“JONGDAE!”

The reality of the moment slammed back into Jongdae. His brain flared back to life. 

“I’m on it,” Jongdae was already on his feet. “Just get him to the shuttle.”

He didn’t wait for Yixing’s answer.

As he turned back to the battle, Jongdae found himself reaching for the doors within himself. One by one, he stripped back the barriers he had built so carefully to control his power. With no hesitation, he tore through each safety measure that protected him from the electricity, from the lightning’s desire to consume everything in its path. Caution no longer had a place in this fight. There was no time.

Jongdae allowed his power to surge through the chamber, charging the ions in pressurized hull. With each step, he felt the air in the room split at his whim. The whole chamber crackled with his energy. He began to run. 

“JUNMYEON!”

In a single glance over his shoulder, Jumyeon understood. He dropped into a crouch, palms braced against the floor. 

Jongdae’s speed didn’t falter. Instead, he moved faster. With a running leap, his foot was on Junmyeon’s back, right between the shoulder blades. Jongdae threw himself upwards, fingers reaching for the sky.

At the height of his jump, Jongdae called the lightning.

This bolt didn’t come from his fingers. It fissioned out of nothing.

There was a shrieking crack, as if the air itself had been rent in half.

And then, with the sweep of Jongdae’s hand, the bolt slammed down. 

Luhan dove too late to fully evade the force of the blast. 

He didn’t scream as the electricity turned his muscles rigid– he couldn’t. The electricity was petrifying his nerves.

But the twelve of them had spent all their waking moments together (at least the ones they could remember), and Luhan knew exactly how to direct Jongdae’s power through him– he knew how to make himself a conductor for Jongdae’s electricity, even when he was its target. 

Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch. 

“Luhan, you saw what happened to Yifan and Taozi,” Jongdae tried to reason even as he maintained the stream of electricity. He blinked the sweat from his eyes. “You know what happens if we stay.”

Luhan somehow managed to cackle through his locked jaw. “Only if you disobey.”

Jongdae didn’t have to wonder for long over Luhan’s smugness.

The main door to the shuttle dock hissed open.

Jongdae withdrew his lightning, coating himself in it instead. Dozens of Red Nurses poured into room. 

“Hunnie, please,” Jongdae begged the boy next to him. “Go. I’ll get Soo. I’ll try to bring Hannie, if I can.”

But Sehun was nothing if not stubborn. “No. I’m staying with you. I have to convince him.”

“I think he’s beyond that,” Jongdae whispered as the Red Nurses arranged themselves in rows at the other side of the bridge. A whole army against six boys. And then a group of Red Nurses began to cluster in the middle. Jongdae watched in horror as the faceless women bubbled together, their forms melting into each other in strange configurations, limbs contorted and askew, until they finally combined into that purple cloak, that crimson-skull face.

“Red Force,” Jongdae breathed. It made sense. The Red Nurses were not people. They were just manifestations of the Red Force’s person. The Red Force was always watching them. 

“What shall I do, father?” Luhan asked. Jongdae felt sick.

A ghastly smile wreaked its way across the Red Force’s face. “We have two more children, don’t we? Let’s wait for our light and fire.” 

Jongdae had had enough. Lightning lanced from his fingertips, shooting at their monstrous creator. 

But Luhan knew him well, had trained to exhaustion alongside Jongdae, could anticipate his every move. The metal crates descended in time for steel polymer to take the hit.

Jongdae sent forth another bolt of lightning, and that, too, Luhan predicted.

“Enough,” Luhan growled. 

Again, Jongdae felt that invisible hand that had once held his to reassure him. This time, however, the hand closed around his neck. 

Jongdae choked and sputtered. His feet began to leave the floor. He struggled, scratched at his throat, but there was nothing to struggle against, nothing to fight. The lights began to flicker. 

“Luhan!” Sehun screamed.

Bright spots were appearing in Jongdae’s vision. Distantly, he could hear his own aborted choking noises. His lightning sputtered uselessly.

The water-pipe above Luhan’s head erupted. 

With one swipe of his hand, Junmyeon knocked down Luhan and half the Red Nurses. He lashed once more and the other Nurses were sliced in two. They crumbled in halves. On the floor, they slowly began to regenerate. 

Jongdae dropped to the ground, curling in on himself as he tried to catch his breath. 

In front of him, Junmyeon took his stance, calling the water back to him and forming a shield in front of them. Water couldn’t do much to the Nurses, but their fearless leader was versatile with his power and liked to regularly remind them that, with the right speed and pressure, water could slice through metal. 

The lights of the shuttle dock were still flickering.

One of them was saying _Jongdae_.

Jongdae blinked. 

Again. _Jongdae_.

Jongdae loved his best friend. He followed the electrical signature back to its source. Baekhyun. They were so close. He had to warn them, had to send them away.

“Enough, Morning Star.”

Jongdae shuddered as the Red Force’s unearthly voice echoed through the room and in his skull. He was still coughing and he knew that, if he survived to see the next day, he’d find bruises in the shape of Luhan’s fingers on his neck. 

“You have nothing to fear. We belong together.” 

Junmyeon lanced a jet of water at their captor. “We belong together. But we don’t belong to you.”

Black miasma secreted from the Red Force, absorbing the attack in its undulating cloud. Junmyeon reformed the water-shield, and the blackness crawled across it, looking for a way past. Junmyeon screamed, the wall of water faltering.

_Baekhyun_, Jongdae flashed back to the source of the electrical wink. _Luhan with Red Force. Jongin and Kyungsoo hurt, we’re betrayed. Red Force here. Don’t come._

Jongdae found a screen near Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and allowed the signal from one of the cameras in the shuttle bay to relay itself to them. 

The electrical signal blipped again.

_Understood._

Relief.

_We’re coming._

_No!_ Jongdae could have howled in fury. 

_Prepare, arriving in one minute._

_No! Stay safe. Will think of something._

_No time. Flare hits soon. Someone has to get out. This can’t be for nothing._

_Please!_

_We’ll clear a path for you. Take the shuttle and go. Don’t look back._

_Baekhyun, please!_

_Duck in 3…2…1_

The doors behind Luhan slammed open and Jongdae glimpsed that tell-tale shimmer of heat.

“GET DOWN!” Jongdae threw himself onto Sehun and they crashed to the ground, perilously close to the edge of the bridge. 

The inferno blasted through. 

From its midst emerged a silhouette with blazing eyes. Their phoenix, Chanyeol. 

On the other side of Junmyeon’s shield, from inside the inferno, they heard Luhan scream. 

Sehun whimpered in horror.

“I’m so sorry baby,” Jongdae whispered. “You have to go.”

“No,” Sehun moaned, struggling to push Jongdae off him. “No, no, Hannie! What have you done? I have to save him, I have to save them!”

“No, there’s nothing you can do!”

Sehun shrieked and thrashed in Jongdae’s arms, nails ripping into Jongdae’s skin.

A hand covered Sehun’s nose. In it was a flower. Sehun struggled for a moment, fighting against the petals and Yixing’s grip. Then he sighed, slumping forward.

“Take him,” Jongdae rasped. “Junmyeon, Minseok, you too! GO! I’ll get the others.”

Junmyeon looked at him, visibly hesitating. He had chosen his own nickname, ‘Suho’. Their guardian.

“Please,” Jongdae whispered. “We can’t lose you.”

Junmyeon hesitated for an agonizing second longer and then he nodded. Together, he and Yixing carted an unconscious Sehun away from the fighting. The water shield held until Junmyeon reached the shuttle and then Jongdae was exposed.

The Red Force was furious. Jongdae knew they could all feel it, a jarring electrical tremor in their bones. They had every reason to be petrified, but now was not the time for terror. They were almost out of time. 

The Red Nurses were flooding upon Chanyeol, clawing at him, unmindful of the way their skin blistered and bubbled raw when they touched his skin. Luhan was writhing on the ground– Jongdae couldn’t see how badly he was hurt. Kyungsoo was still motionless near his feet, mercifully untouched by Chanyeol’s fire. 

The Red Force fixed his hollowed gaze upon Jongdae.

A beam of light blasted their creator into the hull of the ship. 

Jongdae gaped. 

Baekhyun’s form glowed iridescent, his eyes hollow beams that nearly blinded. 

He should have known– it was typical of Baekhyun to hide his prowess behind beaming smiles and inane theatrics. But this was his full potential, untethered: a corporeal star. 

Jongdae shielded his face as Baekhyun flung another light beam at the Red Force, pinning him to the wall. Anyone else would have been melted into the metal by now. 

While Baekhyun kept the Red Force occupied and Chanyeol fended off the Red Nurses, Jongdae slithered forward, trying to get to Kyungsoo’s prone form. He had lost track of time, but the rising temperature in the room and the blinding glow of Baekhyun’s power as it fed off solar energy was enough to know– they were running out. 

He was almost there– his fingers automatically stretched out for Kyungsoo, only a few feet left– 

A beam of light disintegrated the last sliver of bridge between them.

“NO!” Jongdae cried, only just stopping himself from careening over the chasm that now gaped between him and their earth-bender. “Baekhyun, what the hell?” 

Baekhyun had just made it impossible for them to get to each other.

Using the Baekhyun’s momentary distraction, the Red Force undulated forward, tendrils of darkness emerging from the billows of his robes, negating Baekhyun’s light wherever they touched. Baekhyun howled as his light was extinguished. 

Jongdae’s lightning rose up in automatic response, surging between his palms. He flung it across the ravine Baekhyun had created between them, straight into the Red Force’s chest. Their creator merely staggered, but the lightning bolt had done its job, temporarily paralyzing the Red Force’s ability to manipulate his form. 

Baekhyun’s radiant form did nothing to hide his fury. “Jongdae! You have seven minutes! Get the fuck out of here!”

It felt like Minseok’s ice had flooded his veins. “What? We’re not leaving without you!”

Chanyeol moaned in pain as he staggered beneath the endless onslaught of the Nurses. Immediately, Baekhyun was at his side, his light perforating holes into the Red Nurses’ bodies. 

The Red Force was crouched over Luhan, enveloping his quivering form in blackness. 

“You are the only one who can fucking fly that ship!” Baekhyun roared as he fought off a rapidly multiplying army of nurses. “Leave us and go!”

“I can’t,” Jongdae’s breath hitched. “I can’t!” 

A phalanx of Red Nurses were now coming towards him. Jongdae knew they could leap the gap in the bridge with ease. Lightning blasted from his fingertips, and the attack abated long enough for Jongdae to see the Red Force ripple to his feet. 

Luhan remained unmoving. The Red Force stretched out his skeletal hand. 

Jongdae braced himself.

But he wasn’t the target.

A groan of metal came from behind him. Jongdae whirled around. “No…” 

Luhan had returned his power to the Red Force. 

As Jongdae watched, the supports from beneath the shuttle were ripped out. In slow motion, the shuttle began to tilt backwards as its platform collapsed. Its doors were still open and there was no one in the pilot’s seat. 

Half his family was about to fall to their deaths. All this was for nothing. 

Baekhyun and Jongdae’s rage slammed into the Red Force at the same time, pulverizing a hole straight into their creator’s chest. 

But it was too late. The flare was nearly here, and everyone in the shuttle was going to die before it even hit the ship. Perhaps that was a mercy.

And then the shuttle stopped falling.

Jongdae gaped as the shuttle teetered on its side, balancing impossibly at the edge of the launch bay.

There was only person left who could do this, only one power.

“Soo…”

Blood dripped from Kyungsoo’s forehead into the iron will of his eyes. His outstretched hand trembled. He was using everything to keep the ship from plunging downwards into the closed metal hatch of the hull.

Behind him, the gaping hole in the Red Force’s chest was already regenerating.

Go, Kyungsoo mouthed, blood trickling between his teeth.

Jongdae sobbed. He sprinted. 

He knew exactly when Kyungsoo lost consciousness once again. He was only a few feet away from the shuttle when it fell. For a moment, Jongdae could only hear screaming. 

Jongdae threw himself after it.

He heard rather than felt his leg crack with the fall. He heard himself scream, but the adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay. Jongdae reached out and felt the shuttle thrum to life around them. The engines came online. Outside, the massive metal hatch of the Red Force’s ship heaved open. 

Sweat ribboned down Jongdae’s skin, and he knew it was not just exertion. The solar flare’s heat permeated even through the titanium heatshield. 

With a jerk, Jongdae stabilized and secured the shuttle. Then he cast it into abyss below.

The shuttle’s interface glitched. The lights spoke to Jongdae, one last time.

_We love you._

Not even the yawning vastness of outer space could eclipse the grief in Jongdae’s heart. 

Tears streamed down his face as he let his lightning rip along Baekhyun’s energy one last time. Together, they welded the ship shut, sealing the metal between the halves of their family. Half to make it. Half left to die. 

They were barely a few miles from the ship when the flare hit. Through the shuttle’s nano-filament screen, Jongdae watched the blinding tendril of sunlight that glowed like his friend light up the darkness of deep space. 

\----------------------------------------

_“Jongdae! Jongdae!”_

Jongdae groaned. His thoughts were beeping. 

“Jongdae!”

The voice persisted. So did the beeping. When had Jongdae closed his eyes?

He had been remembering that day, when the flare had swallowed up the ship whole. But then his memories gave way to real lightning. Something had happened to the drone taxi. He had fallen out of the sky. 

He pried his eyes open, only to be greeted by the roiling grey. Lightning spidered violently between the clouds. His tongue tasted of batteries and his limbs felt like someone had taken to them with a hammer.

A pair of anxious eyes came into view.

“Jongin?” He blinked.

Jongin flickered. Not Jongin then– just his hologram. 

Numbers in the corner of Jongdae’s vision caught his eye. His med-chip was flashing his blood-pressure in angry colours. Below it, a little silhouette human was marked with glowing spots, politely telling him where all his injuries were. As if Jongdae needed the digital validation to know exactly where he was hurting. 

Still, it wasn’t the worst Jongdae had ever been. 

Grunting, he pulled himself onto his elbows. The scorched corpse of the drone taxi lay smoking a few feet from him. 

“What the hell?”

“It was the storm,” Jongin’s holograph knelt next to him. “It interfered with the drone’s nav system– shorted it out, the report said.”

“Fuck.” Jongdae sat up. 

“Don’t move,” Jongin said. “An ambulance is coming.” 

Jongdae’s vision finally cleared enough to see the tears pixelating in Jongin’s eyes. He took a moment to curse the med-chip for its efficiency in alerting emergency contacts.

“Jongini, I’m alright,” he soothed even as his mind struggled to figure out how he had been in the sky one minute, and was now on the ground. “I’m fine, it’s all alright.” 

"_So easily the lies spill from your lips, Morning Star!_" The Red Force cackled in his head. "_How long do you think it will be before our sweet Kai realizes that this was your fault?_"

_What was my fault?_

"_The drone crashing, of course,_" the Red Force said innocently. "_What else could I mean? When do you think Kai will realise the truth of what’s happening?_"

_And what’s that?_

_That you are losing yourself to your power._

_Fuck you_, Jongdae hissed in his head, even as he tried to smile for Jongin. A single glance at his surroundings, however, and he was swearing out loud. He had crash landed on some desolate part of the army land that sprawled along this section of the highway. 

Another call blipped in the corner of his vision. With a sigh, Jongdae accepted the call.

“Hyung!” Sehun’s wavering form joined Jongin’s. 

“Hunnie, I’m okay, everything’s okay,” Jongdae managed to sit up fully. Nothing felt broken. Just bruised. 

“I called Leeteuk hyung,” Sehun said, his dark eyes piercing through Jongdae between the glitches in the hologram. “He’s sorting out the paperwork.”

Jongdae felt an irrational surge of anger pass through him. Sehun was right– having Leeteuk deal with the police was far better than having a lowly security guard do it. Bureaucracies responded well to Leetuek’s post and family lineage. It wasn’t Sehun’s fault– or Leeteuk’s– that even after years on earth, Jongdae was still helpless to take care of the three of them properly.

Thunder rumbled overhead. Jongdae felt his fury ebb.

Sehun and Jongin were still staring at him worriedly and Jongdae decided that he was not going to try getting to his feet while they were watching. In the distance, behind the two boys, a jeep was approaching.

“I think Leeteuk hyung is calling me,” Jongdae said quickly. “I’ll call you both back once I’ve sorted this out–”

“Hyung, I can be there,” Jongin was staring at Jongdae so earnestly.

“You can?” Jongdae asked uncertainly.

“It’ll just take me twenty minutes by taxi!”

Jongdae fought off the sudden urge to weep. 

“No, Jongini, don’t miss class. This is fine, I’ll be fine.” He reached out for and Jongin’s and Sehun’s hands, watched his fingers pass right through them. “I’ll speak to Leeteuk hyung now. Off you go.”

Jongdae didn’t think he was supposed to feel relief as he cut the call, but he had bigger things to worry about.

Namely the jeep that was now rolling over the grass where Jongin and Sehun’s holographic forms had been. Jongdae struggled to stand up. 

“Are you alright?” All of a sudden, an arm was around him, stabalising him until he could stand without teetering. 

Jongdae turned to give his thanks but–“Taemin?”– came out instead. 

“Hyung,” The blond boy flashed his beatific smile. 

“What are you doing here?” Jongdae gaped. Taemin was dressed in all-black fatigues and looked strangely comfortable in this barren patch of army training ground, despite also looking entirely out of place.

“I was visiting a friend here– we did our service together,” Taemin nodded at the sharp-jawed young man in the driver’s seat, who waved despondently. Jongdae didn’t know when the army had started to allow slicked back purple hair. 

“Leeteuk hyung called me,” Taemin said as he helped Jongdae into the back of the jeep. “Don’t worry, we’ve got it handled. You won’t have any trouble– Leeteuk hyung threatened to sue the city for malfunctioning public transport.” 

The purple-haired man snorted. 

They rolled up to a first-aid facility. 

“Come on, hyung,” Taemin grunted as he helped Jongdae out. “I know the doctor here– he may look like a teenager, but he’s our best.”

“I don’t think all this is necessary,” Jongdae grumbled. He turned to Taemin’s friend. “Thank you and sorry for interrupting your day–” Jongdae faltered. “I didn’t even get your name.”

The purple-haired youth grinned. “Taeyong.” 

He was gone in a growl of dust and gravel.

“Brat,” Taemin muttered as he helped Jongdae up the stairs.

\----------------------------------------

They left Jongdae alone in the room after examining him, the young doctor going off to treat his assigned patients and Taemin to flirt his way around Jongdae’s paperwork.

The Red Force was strangely silent in his head. Jongdae wasn’t sure whether he came and went, whether he was privy to all of Jongdae’s thoughts. Jongdae hoped not. 

Absently, he drifted over to the sink, turning the tap on. He splashed water on face, staring as it dripped from his gaunt features. He turned the tap off.

He turned it on again.

The water streamed unassumingly, swirling down the drain.

“Junmyeon hyung,” Jongdae whispered. “I need you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I have nothing against real-life Luhan (sorry Luhan!)
> 
> So what did you guys think? What now? What next? 
> 
> If you liked what you read, kudos are always appreciated, and comments make my day! 
> 
> Stay safe and look after yourselves!


	3. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a bit of Jongin and Sehun's POV. Jongdae tries to find the truth. Sehun throws a curveball.

Jongin was born to move. This, he knew, even without memories, even without knowledge of life before the sterile hull of the shuttle. For him, there had never been any separation between thought and movement. Only impulse, then action.

In the sterile confines of the shuttle, this made him the ideal weapon; the most prized force in the Red Force’s blistered hands.

He loved it.

He loved trusting his intent to enact itself in force. He loved the seamless hum between his mind, soul and body, loved when time ceased to mean anything and all his senses aligned in deadly symphony.

He loved that no one could touch him.

No one could trap Kai.

That is, until Kai set his eyes upon Chen and realized that there were more ways to be tethered than just physical.

Baekhyun and Jongdae had been brought to them at the same time, and while no one could resist Baekhyun’s bright light, Jongin couldn’t ignore the way his gaze was drawn towards their beautiful Morning Star, always trailing over the length of his eyelashes, the sharp cut of his jawline, the curlicues of his lips, the titanium glow of his skin. And whenever the twin suns in his eyes met Jongin’s, Jongin knew that something in the alignment of his universe had shifted. Between impulse and action, there was now a gap.

A crackling charge now filled the space between.

Jongin had resisted at first. He had not been designed to feel, after all. He was designed to act. And while his bond with his other brothers was deep and true, it was not unpredictable. Not in the way that his feelings for Jongdae were.

For the first time, Jongin could understand Sehun’s infatuation with Luhan, even if he couldn’t understand what he was supposed to do about it.

No matter how hard he tried to ignore these new unwieldy feelings, or the source of them, he couldn’t seem to get away from Jongdae’s sheer presence. It was more than having to practice and eat and live with Jongdae all the time.

It was because Jongdae was Jongdae.

Within a month, Jongdae knew things about all of them that even the Red Force didn’t know.

Jongdae was uncanny in his ability to understand the inner workings of all their powers, always finding little shortcuts or tricks none of them would have even begun to think of. It was Jongdae who taught Baekhyun to slither into electrical systems, to communicate through light-Morse; Jongdae who trained Chanyeol to tame his fire rather than let his power consume him; Jongdae who realized that Luhan and Kyungsoo could calibrate their abilities to work in compatible harmony, or exacerbative discord; Jongdae who believed that Yixing could learn to block his empathy so he could sleep at night.

It was Jongdae who always sat quietly with Zitao when the timelines left him bone-white and trembling (and Jongin could understand how the yawning abyss of the future would become just that little bit less scary with the tingle of Jongdae’s fingers in one’s hands and the press of Jongdae’s brow to one’s forehead).

It was Jongdae who taught Jongin that he was not as untouchable as he thought.

In their third sparring session together, Jongin teleported behind Jongdae only to be kicked so hard in the ribs that Sehun had to put air back in his lungs (only after he was done laughing, of course).

But Jongdae wasn’t trying to tease him. Jongin’s jaw could only flap on its hinges as Jongdae explained that his moves were too predictable. That he was under-utilizing his powers.

Jongin didn’t even have the heart to be insulted, because– where Baekhyun was brash but bright, and Chanyeol was competitive but generous– their sarcastic, whiney, beautiful little Jongdae was the kindest of them all.

So Jongin listened, and learnt, until once again thought and deed became one. Because Jongin was not meant to think. Only impulse, then action.

The day Jongin finally swept Jongdae’s feet from under him, Jongdae’s lips curled with absolute triumph as he stared up at Jongin from the floor, and Jongin had decided. In the quiet hours when the two were supposed to be running diagnostics of the ship’s engine, Jongin grabbed Jongdae’s hand and teleported them to the noisy shadow beneath the engine blades.

In the dappled light of the rotors, Jongin hesitated only one more second before asking. His answer came in the form of Jongdae’s fervent lips upon his. Only impulse, then action.

Jongin backed his enthusiastic hyung into the cold steel of the ship’s hull, catching Jongdae’s hiss between his teeth. Again, he was confronted with what he didn’t know. If he’d learnt to kiss or show any proper affection, he couldn’t remember.

Warm hands fell upon his cheeks. Jongin opened his eyes, his breath tangling with Jongdae’s. The cosmos was dancing in Jongdae’s eyes.

“Only impulse,” Jongdae chided softly against his lips. “Only action.”

Jongin didn’t need any more permission. He pressed into Jongdae, reeling him in, trying to meld their bodies into each other, all the while ignoring the ridiculous crinkle of white latex uniforms and the louring hum of engine blades.

As Jongdae whined prettily against him, he didn’t know that Jongin had already acted. He had already given Jongdae his heart. No hesitation, no doubt.

Only action. 

As Jongin stared page in front of him, fingers clutching the edge of his chair in front of one of the library’s many holo-computers, he wondered what Jongdae would think of this action. Whether he would be as forgiving about this lack of thought.

On the screen, an image of a woman flickered. She looked just like him.

Beneath the picture, there was an address.

\---------------------------------------------------------

“The Red Force is talking to you in your head?”

Jongdae knew Junmyeon couldn’t help how skeptical he sounded, but he couldn’t stop the brief irritation that seared through him.

“I know how it sounds,” Jongdae kept his tone even. “But it’s true.”

Outside, the clouds were meshed over with lightning.

“When did it start?” Minseok’s cat-like eyes grew even larger in concern. His fingers reached across the worn plastic tabletop to curl around Jongdae’s hand. Jongdae was almost startled by the relief the small gesture brought. He squeezed back. Minseok didn’t seem to mind the way both their knuckles turned white.

They were sitting at a nondescript café near the mag-rail station. It was the lunch hour and the neighbourhood was swollen with office-workers armed with lunchboxes and flaking cigarettes. Jongdae could feel the thrum of the intracity train beneath his fingernails.

Black clouds choked the sky. Rain spat down upon the windows.

Minseok hadn’t changed much over three years. His face retained its uncanny youthfulness, and his friendly ease of manner remained a deceptive veneer over the confident powerhouse that lurked just beneath. And when he looked at Jongdae, his eyes still glowed with that infinite affection that Jongdae had always adored him for.

Jongdae couldn’t say the same for Junmyeon. More than anything, Junmyeon looked weary. The handsome lines of his face drooped in exhaustion and worry, and Jongdae hated to think that he was the reason for that. The years had been hard on their once fearless leader. Jongdae knew. Junmyeon had taken the blame for losing half their family squarely on his broad shoulders, and there was nothing any of them could say to dislodge it.

Jongdae knew Junmyeon hated their separation, hated that Jongdae, Jongin and Sehun were in Seoul, hated that he and Minseok had to live in Busan, hated that Yixing was in Beijing, that even though they had survived, they were still not together. But he also insisted on their separation. There was less to notice if six young men with superhuman abilities weren’t wandering the streets together. There were less people to find and capture if one of them was found out.

Junmyeon loved them the most, and so his guilt ran the deepest. And Jongdae had no right to tell him to let it go.

“I only really realized it last week. But I think it started before,” Jongdae admitted. “I’ve been… uneasy.”

“Is he talking to you now?” Junmyeon asked carefully.

Jongdae shook his head. The Red Force rarely spoke to him when he was around others. Jongdae told Junmyeon this.

Junmyeon frowned.

“Why now?” Minseok asked tentatively, keeping his hand clasped around Jongdae’s.

Jongdae didn’t know how to answer.

“The storm over Seoul has been going on for nearly three months,” Junmyeon’s observation was deceptively casual. His expression was grim as he turned back to Jongdae, eyes black. “Why are you doing this, Jongdae?”

Jongdae started, snatching his hand back from Minseok. “I’m not doing anything! Hyung, I swear!” He beseeched the older of the two when Junmyeon looked unconvinced.

Minseok looked torn. “Jongdae, who else could it be?”

“What?” Jongdae’s gaze ricocheted between the two. “I’m not doing this. I _can’t_ do this! My power is _lightning_!” At Junmyeon’s stern expression, Jongdae lowered his voice. “My power is lightning. How the hell would I be able to keep a storm going over an entire city? For fucking _months_?”

Junmyeon sighed. “I don’t know Jongdae.”

“Do you think…” Minseok hesitated. “Do you think that what happened to Yifan and Taozi is happening to you?”

_“Ah, my ice prince is a clever one.”_

_Shut the fuck up_, Jongdae told the voice in his head.

“What do you mean?” Jongdae asked, trying to keep the tremor from his voice.

“Yifan and Taozi’s powers went through… I don’t know,” Junmyeon hesitated. “Some kind of growth spurt? Mutation? Whatever it was, we know that their powers increased exponentially beyond their control.”

_“You should listen to your leader. There’s a reason I chose him, after all.”_

“Kris and Tao were aware of what was happening,” Jongdae pointedly ignored the voice in his head. “They weren’t unconscious of their effect.”

“Yifan was,” Junmyeon said quietly. “It started earlier. It just took him a little time to realise that he was the one warping the walls around us.”

“But that was on the ship! That was before!” Jongdae argued. “Have any of you had anything happen with your powers since?”

“Not that we know of,” Junmyeon said. “But we certainly haven’t had a storm looming over our heads for months.”

Jongdae shook his head in disbelief. “So how am I supposed to stop this on the off chance it’s me? I can’t even feel it! Should I just kill myself and see if the storm goes away? I–”

“Jongdae!”

Jongdae flinched. Minseok’s face had gone pale and his nostrils flared.

“Don’t even joke about it,” Minseok snarled.

Jongdae ducked his head, chagrined. “I’m sorry, hyung. I didn’t mean it.”

“Jongdae,” Junmyeon attempted to soothe. “We’re not trying to attack you. We’re trying to help you. This storm is worrisome. The fact that you’re hearing the Red Force in your head is worrisome.”

“You think the two are related?” Jongdae asked.

Junmyeon and Minseok exchanged an uneasy glance.

“Jongdae, your power is electricity.”

“I’m aware, hyung.”

“No, I don’t think you are,” Junmyeon cleared his throat. “When Yifan was going through… _that_… he was affected too. His leg broke, he ruptured a kidney. Before the Red Force killed him.”

“How could you not tell us, hyung?” Jongdae felt sick.

“Yixing healed it and we were told not to tell,” Junmyeon said quietly. “After that, it was too painful to bring up…But that’s not the point I’m making,” Junmyeon continued. “I’m saying that Yifan’s and Tao’s powers were not only exponentially affecting their surroundings– the powers were turning inwards as well.”

“So what?” Jongdae was struggling to understand what Junmyeon was trying to tell him. “You’re saying my electricity is going to affect me physically?”

“It already might be.”

“What?”

“Jongdae.” This time it was Minseok, speaking to Jongdae gently again, as if he was a temperamental stray cat just waiting to lash out. “There are infinite electric signals taking place in your body, in your nerves… in your brain…”

“It’s not difficult to assume that your electricity is somehow disrupting them as well,” Junmyeon finished.

Jongdae was trying to wrap his head around what his hyungs were trying to tell him.

His heart felt like it was pulsing lead.

“You think I’m going crazy.”

“Not crazy,” Minseok contradicted quickly. “Just…temporarily impaired…”

“You’re hearing the Red Force in your head, Jongdae,” Junmyeon said flatly. “It’s been three years and you have scoured the solar system and found nothing there. None of us feel the Red Force’s energy– do you?”

The Red Force was cackling in Jongdae’s head and Jongdae had to wonder whether Junmyeon was right. Maybe he was going crazy.

“_This is fun, isn’t it? They think you’re going mad, you think you’re going mad– whatever is my little Morning Star going to do?”_

I’m not yours! Jongdae snarled in his head, while simultaneously trying to focus on the conversation that was actually taking place.

“You’re assuming things,” Jongdae protested. “How do you know the storm is not Hunnie’s doing? Surely his power is much more attuned to the weather than mine.”

“No,” Junmyeon said evenly. “If it was Sehun, we’d be seeing tornadoes and hurricanes. Not this.”

“I’m not fucking crazy!”

“For fuck’s sake, Jongdae, we’re trying to help here,” Junmyeon sighed.

“This helping? The Red Force says he’s returning, and you think I would make that up?”

“I know _you_ believe that’s true…”

Jongdae couldn’t believe them.

Junmyeon scraped his hand through his hair, as he tended to do when he didn’t want to stop being nice.

“I’m going to the restroom,” Junmyeon said finally, getting up. “Order some food and then we can work this out.”

Jongdae’s gaze trailed after Junmyeon’s slumped shoulders.

“How are Nini and Hunnie?” Minseok asked, and Jongdae knew he’d been dying to ask all along.

“They’re fine.” For the first time, Jongdae felt like his smile was real.

“You and Nini?”

Jongdae feels himself flush, like a fucking teenager. “Yeah,” he grinned. “Going strong.” Jongdae was tentative with his next question. “Any word from Xing-ge?”

“He’s in Beijing,” Minseok said, valiantly trying to veil the sadness in his eyes. “He won’t tell us much, but he’s alright.”

Jongdae nodded, gaze shifting out the window. None of them knew each other’s exact addresses, or any real details of each other’s new lives. Safety demanded it.

Rain splattered thickly against the window and Jongdae’s fingers nervously mimicked their rhythm against the table.

“We’ll figure something out, Jongdae,” Minseok said earnestly, reaching for Jongdae’s hand and stilling it. “Myeon and I will stay here, and we’ll work it out. All together.”

And Jongdae couldn’t bear it.

He couldn’t stand the thought of telling Jongin and Sehun, having all four of them hover over him, staring at him with fear and pity in their eyes.

He _wouldn’t _bear it.

In Jongdae’s mind, the future bled into focus before in the form of two paths. He already knew which one he had to take.

He stood up.

“Just need to use the washroom– I drank a lot of coffee and the rain is getting to me,” Jongdae joked.

He passed Junmyeon on the way to the back of the café. He clasped the older man’s hand briefly, holding on until Junmyeon’s expression softened.

Jongdae stayed in the washroom until he was certain Junmyeon was no longer in eyeline of the bathroom door.

Jongdae slipped out of the café through the service entrance.

Water clung to the ankles of his trousers as he splashed his way to mag-rail station. He began to sprint.

As long as he was in the rain, his leader could track him.

Halfway to station, Junmyeon’s voice boomed at him through the downpour.

“I’m fine, hyung,” Jongdae told the rain. “Go home. I know someone who can help me.”

Jongdae dragged his hood over his head, activating its meager rainshield. It muffled Junmyeon’s voice, but Jongdae was too soaked to drown him out altogether. He needed to get on the train.

Jongdae squeezed between the mag-train’s doors just before they slammed shut.

Junmyeon’s voice cut off, and Jongdae felt relief, relishing the silence in his head. There were already too many people in there.

As he turned to face the window, he saw a frantic Junmyeon and Minseok sprint onto the platform, searching.

Jongdae tugged his hood to further shade his face, and turned the other way. The mag-train slipped out of the station.

_“So, Morning Star? Are you crazy? Or am I coming for you? Which do you prefer?”_

“Shut up,” Jongdae gritted, to the minor alarm of the passengers closest to him.

But he needed to know. The answer meant everything.

‘Display bio-status,’ Jongdae instructed his med-chip.

His vitals appeared in luminous diagrams before him.

The mag-train was still underground. Jongdae waited.

He kept his breathing steady as the train began to ascend to the open-rail.

The second they left the self-contained magnetic field of the underground tunnel, Jongdae’s vitals rippled. His oxygen intake heightened and his blood-pressure crawled to the very edges of what was considered normal. A small chart showed all his brain functions lighting up simultaneously.

Jongdae looked out the window.

  
Lightning tore across the sky.

“It’s me,” Jongdae breathed.

_“Finally, Morning Star. You understand.”_

Jongdae ignored the Red Force’s voice.

‘Shut down med-chip and neural link,’ Jongdae instructed his bio-server.

‘Are you sure?’ The server asked.

‘Yes.’ Jongdae didn’t need any record of what he was about to do.

Closing his eyes, Jongdae pressed his palm flat against the side of the train. Taking a deep breath, he let his consciousness expand through the electricity.

Jongdae closed his fist.

The ceiling of the mag-train screeched as the levitation mechanism failed and the magnets slammed into eachother. The train shrieked to a halt. Panicked screams echoed through the compartments.

The train went dark.

Jongdae waited ten seconds.

He released his fist.

The train thrummed to life. The lights flickered on and he felt the floor beneath him rise as the magnets above them re-polarised. A flustered announcement crackled through the compartments, apologizing for a minor technical issue, that had been resolved.

But the passengers around him were whispering, each observing something invisible on their neural-links. Jongdae restarted his med-chip and neural link before the server decided to report it to the police. The live news dot was blipping at the corner of his vision. He opened it.

The words ticker-taped across his vision:

_At 18:48, all intra-city mag-trains in Seoul went dark for 8 seconds. No injuries reported. Authorities yet to make statement. _

Jongdae found it easy to look as shaken as the rest of the passengers.

All the trains.

In Seoul.

“Oh my god.”

He had never been this powerful.

What the fuck was happening?

_“You see why I chose you, Morning Star? As the vehicle of my voice?”_

Jongdae eyed the lightning clawing over the sky as he made a call. “Leeteuk hyung? I’m fine, thanks to you… Actually, I have another favour to ask– do you remember when you offered me that engineering job? I’d like to take you up on it.”

“Woah.”

Jongdae was extremely gratified by the sight of Jongin’s normally attractive face gaping stupidly at him. Jongdae had worn his best (ie, only) dress shirt and the nicest slacks he owned, coupled with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.

“I’m being interviewed for a supervisorial position,” Jongdae explained, quickly darting around Jongin, who seemed more keen on attempting to undress him than finding out why he was wearing the outfit.

“Wait– what?” Jongin halted in his attempt to grope Jongdae’s ass as he registered the words. “Oh my god!” Jongdae staggered as he found himself koala-ed by his massively affectionate boyfriend, who was pressing kisses to every inch of his face, entirely unrepentant of the fact that he was wrinkling Jongdae’s best (only) dress shirt and digging his heels rather painfully into the small of Jongdae’s back as he clung on.

“It’s only an interview, Jongini, I don’t know who they’ll choose!” Nevertheless, Jongdae decided he deserved to take advantage of this situation, placing his palms firmly on Jongin’s own enviable backside as he held the younger up.

“I don’t care, I’m so proud of you,” Jongin leaned down coaxed Jongdae’s lips apart with his tongue. There was a small nagging feeling at the back of Jongdae’s head– a certain guilt that his own stasis in life was somehow weighing on Jongin enough for a tiny job interview to garner this reaction. Jongdae pushed the feeling away in favour of returning Jongin’s ardent assault in kind.

His neural-link beeped.

Jongdae dragged his lips back from Jongin’s, gasping as Jongin decided to put his own to use elsewhere.

“Jagi, I have to go,” Jongdae rasped, even as he tilted his head to the side to give Jongin more room to work.

“Fine,” Jongin huffed when Jongdae extracted himself forcefully from the dancer’s grip. He seemed decidedly pleased by the Orion’s belt of hickies he’d left across Jongdae’s throat, which his med-chip didn’t seem to know what to make of. ‘Minor abrasions detected’ blinked in the corner of his vision.

“But you’re fucking me tonight.”

Jongdae snorted. “Twist my arm.”

“Keep the glasses on.”

“You’re a demon,” Jongdae groaned as he grabbed his backpack.

“Hyung.”

Jongdae stopped just as he reached the door.

“Are you okay, hyung?”

Jongdae tried not to flounder beneath Jongin’s concerned gaze. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Nothing hurting from the accident, no?”

Jongdae felt an easy smile stretch across his face. “I’m fine, Jongini– didn’t I just lift your heavy ass?”

“You love this ass.”

“Very true,” Jongdae acquiesced. “Now can I go, before they decide to hire someone who can actually arrive on time?”

“Go, go– just remember we’re having dinner with Hunnie tonight– we’ll celebrate!”

As Jongdae marveled at Jongin’s beaming smile and the adorable crinkling of his eyes, he knew he would do anything to protect it.

\----------------------------------------------

Jongdae paid little attention to the interview. He reacted with polite happiness when he got the job, and spent the rest of the day trying to understand the layout of the KARI’s interior.

His job was less engineering and more maintenance, but it gave Jongdae enough access to fry an extremely mundane, yet incredibly important server that powered Leeteuk’s research.

From there, it was easy.

Jongdae insisted he stay late to fix the problem, saying that it would be bad luck for him to leave such an important task undone on his first day. Leeteuk was staying late anyway, so he agreed. And while Leeteuk was agonizing over the delay with his superiors, Jongdae allowed his power to access KARI’s satellite.

Jongdae felt his electricity bloom across the earth’s magnetic field, reaching beyond the atmosphere, the furthest his power had ever travelled.

Cardiac arrest would have been less painful.

When Jongdae blinked his eyes open, he was on his back, fingertips stinging and his heart thrumming too fast in his chest.

“Motherfucker.”

“Jongdae!” A frantic Leeteuk was squatting by Jongdae’s head.

“I’m fine, hyung,” Jongdae heaved himself into sitting up. “I underestimated the discharge, but you’re all good now. The server’s back online.”

Leeteuk slumped with relief and Jongdae almost felt guilty. Almost.

“Please go home now,” Leeteuk said. “Jongin is going to kill us both if you go home with any more injuries this month.”

Jongdae took a moment to process all the information on the magtrain home.

He eyed his reflection in the darkened window. “I’m not crazy,” He told himself.

_“Are you sure, Morning Star? You were so quick to doubt…”_

Motherfucker, I know what your plan is now. I know where you are.

_“Oh?”_

Because Jongdae now knew for sure:

The storm was his. But it wasn’t his power that was messing with his brain.

You felt my powers expand, didn’t you? It was clever of you to use that to get into my head. You hacked my power.

_“Ah, Morning Star, you were calling to me. What else could I do?”_

Leave me alone?

_“I can’t. We belong together, Morning Star. You are all pieces of me. I will get you all back. All together again.”_

I know what you’re planning. I know when you’re coming. And I’ll be ready to meet you when you do. You’ll never have us again.

Laughter.

Enraged, Jongdae reached into his mind, finally knowing what to look for. He found that spark that was acting like a beacon for his erstwhile master. He smothered it.

The laughter cut off.   
  
Blessed silence. He was finally alone.

But there was hardly any time to be relieved. If he was going to do this on his own, he had to prepare.

Guilt was a funny feeling, Jongdae thought. There was some guilt that remained on the soul, like a stain that would never come out. The kind of guilt that one learnt to live with, even if it was agonizing, because there was no option but to move forward, scars and all.

Then there was the guilt that felt acute at first, but then quickly dissipated, especially if the ends seemed to justify the means– if the temporary satisfaction far outweighed the abstract potential of negative consequence.

It was the latter that Jongdae felt as the days went on, when lying to Jongin became easy simply because Jongin looked so happy. He seemed delighted at Jongdae’s ‘promotion’ at KARI, and more than once, Jongdae would snuggle into bed well past midnight, only to have a sleepy Jongin slip a thigh or a hand between his legs, to ensure that he was ‘well rested’ for his shift the next day. Not to mention the number of times he was nearly late to work because Jongin’s appreciation for his more formal work attire resulted in one of them being bent over the kitchen counter, necessitating a subsequent change of clothes.

Jongdae couldn’t complain.

The two maknaes also expressed their pride by insisting that Jongdae treat them every time they went out, which Jongdae allowed because he could now indeed afford to buy them a better brand of ramyeon, or a few extra helpings of fried chicken.

In truth, he could do more than that, but the rest of his salary increase was being spent on renting a run-down storage compartment and a very specific, very expensive set of supplies.

Soon, he stopped feeling guilty for lying about working overtime when he was actually at the storage compartment, stopped caring that every other word that came out of his mouth was usually bullshit. And Leeteuk was so busy now that he didn’t even have a chance to accidentally blow Jongdae’s cover.

There was another, third type of guilt that Jongdae hadn’t expected.

He felt it whenever Jongin praised him for working so hard, whenever Jongin eagerly put outfits together for him whenever Jongdae said he was going out to meet colleagues after work (a lie– just more time at the storage compartment), whenever Jongin expressed his delight that Jongdae was ‘finally getting a life’. Whenever Jongin was happy to be neglected in favor of whatever Jongdae had going on, urging him to ‘take his time’ and ‘have fun’.

Jongdae hadn’t realized how much he had been hurting Jongin by choosing to live at the edges of their life in Seoul. He hadn’t realized that Jongin thought of Jongdae as being trapped in the past, unable to move forward. And he didn’t want to tell Jongin that this was still the case. That he was still chasing the same demons.

And so Jongdae kept lying. And gradually the guilt faded away.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Just when Jongdae thought that he was finally getting used to living his strange double (triple?) life, yet another spanner was thrown in the works.  
  
It happened on a Wednesday evening.

Jongdae was at the university gymnasium for his first advanced mixed-martial arts class.

It was not ideal. He would have liked to have gone anywhere else, but he desperately needed to get back in shape and the only reason he could afford this class was due to Jongin’s student discount. To defeat the Red Force, he needed to once again become the weapon the Red Force had groomed him to be. And while the university gymnasium had none of the facilities of the space-ship in which he had spent most of his known life, at least the class itself was taught by someone who claimed to have been a Lieutenant Colonel in the army. And there was the small mercy that the class overlapped with Jongin and Sehun’s dance practice, which was in a different building altogether. So they couldn’t ask him what he was doing.

But nothing on earth had been uncomplicated for Jongdae, and he shouldn’t have expected this to change.

He arrived in the gymnasium looking every bit out of place, wearing his baggy sweatpants and oversized gym shirt alongside men with stern faces, bulging veins and clothes so tight that the nanoparticles might as well have been imbedded into their skin. Jongdae had never felt his lack of stature more acutely.

And former Lieutenant Colonel Yoobeom, it transpired, was an asshole.

There were certain requirements to take the advanced course, including prior experience in the martial arts or in live combat. As they put on their hand-wraps, Yoobeom approached them individually to cross-check their details.

“Public service?” He scoffed at a man whose biceps were each bigger than Jongdae’s whole head. “You might as well have trained with the elementary students at my kid’s taekwondo class.”

Jongdae found himself dreading his own little assessment.

Yoobeom scanned his details, and Jongdae knew he would find nothing– no previous combat experience, no official training, no military stars in the upper corner. He’d see only the special note attached– exempt from military service.

“No physical injuries, perfect eyesight…” Jongdae watched Yoobeom’s face stretch into a sneer.

“Let me guess– you have a rich uncle who called in a few favours.”

“Close,” Jongdae replied cheerfully. “I have PTSD– ” they were all diagnosed shortly after their crash-landing on KARI’s airstrip– “is that better?”

He relished the awkward silence that followed.

Yoobeom moved on to terrorise the next student, even if the sneer remained on his face.

“We’ll start by getting a sense of everyone’s skills,” Yoobeom said, dividing the class in two across the rubberized fighting ring. “Your goal is to have your opponent’s back to the mat for three seconds. Only eyes and crotches are off-limits. Losers are out, and last one standing gets to test their skills on me. You can tap out any time. If I think you can’t handle it, I will cut you from the class. Let’s go.”

Simple enough, Jongdae thought.

At another time, Jongdae might have identified with his fellow stuents. A lot of these people _had _been weapons of a sort– soldiers in an army, serving a purpose that wasn’t quite their own. But they had never been _weaponized_ in quite the same way as Jongdae had been.

And that set Jongdae apart.

Jongdae surprised his first opponent– a massive block of a man with ripped sleeves that showcased a trellis of lewd tattoos. The man charged at Jongdae, obviously expecting to overpower his smaller stature with sheer brute force.

Jongdae had him pinned in two seconds.

Yoobeom caught Jongdae’s eye as Jongdae trailed to the back of the line. Jongdae offered him a cheerful smile.

His next opponent was tougher– a wiry spring of a man, wound tight with sinew from years in the marines. It took Jongdae ten seconds to deposit him on the ground.

He could see the ripple of disaffection run through the class. Half of the men present were starting to regard him with (begrudging) respect. They asked him about his methods, _how _exactly he had done that specific throw. The other half, however, had started to hate Jongdae and Jongdae could feel it. They didn’t like being overshadowed by ‘the runt’ of the class. They did not like humiliation.

But Jongdae didn’t have the patience or sympathy to offer them.

This was supposed to be training him for a fight against the Red Force, and none of these men were up to par. 

When Jongdae slammed his fourth opponent into the mat, Yoobeom stepped in– Jongdae was throwing off the dynamic of his class and Yoobeom couldn’t afford to lose his clientele of men with egos weaker than their glass jaws.

“It seems you have a few tricks up your sleeve,” Yoobeom said. He would have seemed entirely unphased, but for the intermittent twitching of his right eye.

He rushed Jongdae without warning. 

Jongdae had him on the mat in twelve seconds.

“Again,” Yoobeom snarled.

Again, Jongdae dropped him.

“What is it, huh?” Spittle flung from Yoobeom’s mouth as he staggered to his feet. “Muscle enhancements? Nano-injections?”

Jongdae shook his head in disbelief. Raising his hands in surrender, he stepped back. “I’m done. I’m supposed to be getting back in shape, not helping you make excuses. I’m dropping the class.” Jongdae turned his back, heading out of the ring.

Hands grabbed him from behind.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something was happening in the flat mat area. Sehun had had to skip dance practice for a lab and was just cutting across the main gym to wait for Jongin when he found himself distracted by the commotion. People were screaming and gasping in a way that warranted an illegal bullfight, not an evening training class.

But as Sehun drew closer to the scene, he decided the excitement was entirely warranted.

He arrived just in time to see Jongdae slip out of his shirt, leaving his hapless opponent with just fabric and no Jongdae. Instead of letting go of the material entirely, Jongdae grabbed onto the shirt, wrapped it once around Instructor Yoobeom’s hands and twisted. No one was more surprised than Yoobeom when he went crashing to the floor. The tattered remains of Jongdae’s shirt fell from his hands.

“Isn’t that your friend?” The redhead next to him (Wendy?) asked.

“Yeah…”

Sehun had not seen Jongdae look so irate in a long time. Sehun could see the way his arms flexed, as if tempted to cover up his torso. Sehun longed to step between him and his opponent.

But Jongdae seemed to overcome his sense of modesty in favour of advancing upon Yoobeom, and Sehun took a moment to appreciate the rare sight before him.

While Jongin or he could be found shirtless at the drop of a hat (after dance practice, studying, during dance practice, lounging around the house, before dance practice, the second the temperature rose above freezing), Jongdae preferred to keep his clothing on and Sehun felt slightly resentful for being so willfully deprived.

He admired the rare sight of bulging biceps and sturdy chest, allowed himself to wonder what they might feel like if they were pinning him down. His gaze trailed down lean muscle, took in the glorious curvatures that marked Jongdae’s ass and thighs through the thin material of his sweatpants. He allowed himself to wonder what it might feel like to pin _them_ down.

Sehun shook himself. He was becoming a lecherous old man.

He wondered what Jongin’s hands looked like, wrapped around that tiny little waist.

Sehun pinched himself.

As gorgeous as Jongdae looked, skin pearling with sweat, Sehun could see that something was wrong. It had been a long time since Jongdae had looked so frazzled, and right now, it seemed like he was treading on the edges of his control. Sehun couldn’t imagine what Yoobeom could have said to set Jongdae off, but it didn’t matter. If Jongdae actually lost control, even for a second, he could cause serious damage. And Jongdae wouldn’t live with himself if he actually hurt an innocent, no matter how much of an asshole that innocent was.

The lights flickered overhead.

Okay, Sehun needed to intervene.

_Come to the main gym_, he sent Jongin via neural link. _Your boyfriend is being a little too sexy._

Sehun ignored that ‘_Tf?_’ that he received in return.

“See?” Jongdae spat. “No muscle enhancements, no adrenaline patches, now what excuse do you have?”

But Yoobeom’s eyes were tracing across Jongdae’s muscles and they were much less appreciative than Sehun’s were. “The fuck happened to you, you freak?”

And Sehun felt his own anger surge. It had been a long time since Sehun had found the floral pattern of scars on Jongdae’s torso anything less than sexy; a little less time since he had started needing cold showers every time he imagined tracing along that pale-red feathering of Lichtenburg figures with his tongue.

The current situation was not the cold-water shower he was looking for, but it would do as a distraction.

Jongdae hadn’t exposed himself to the world the way Sehun and Jongin had. Studying at university had forced the two youngest of the group to open up, to learn to function properly outside their trauma even with those who did not share it. They had learned to how to dampen their own disproportionate reactions to the world’s hesitation in accepting their difference– they had learned how to smooth the gap between the violence of their past and the strangeness of their present.

Jongdae hadn’t.

Jongdae had cared for them in every way he could, but that was where his efforts to acclimate had ended. Sehun knew Jongdae liked Taemin, Changmin and especially Leeteuk. But he also knew that if he didn’t need to rely on them from time to time, Jongdae would have been as happy to let the relationship melt away as he was to maintain it.

Jongdae was smart, thrifty, tenacious, and he knew how to survive.

But Jongdae had also inadvertently insulated himself from the ways in which the world could be cruel to difference. To be suddenly (and literally) stripped, to be so exposed without knowing what to defend– Sehun knew how that might feel. He knew that Jongdae would be sad to know that they had felt sorrows and fears that had not been shared with him– that he had not been able to protect them from. And he knew that, as much as Jongdae would fight for any of them without hesitation, Jongdae did not yet know how to inure _himself_ to the softer hardships of this new life.

Maybe it had been a mistake for Jongdae to make Jongin and Sehun his whole world, but Sehun would not let him get repaid by being hurt the very first time he ever ventured out.

Sehun stepped into the ring.

Jongdae had knocked Yoobeom off his feet for the sixth time and it looked like he was itching to demonstrate his real strength. To demonstrate the prowess that had been earned with the price of becoming a ‘freak’.

Not for the first time, Sehun saw darkness flit across Jongdae’s eyes. It had always been there, ever since Sehun had known him, and it made Sehun wonder about the life Jongdae had lived before. The life that none of them could remember.

But it didn’t matter. Right now, he just had to bring the light– their Jongdae– back.

“Your footwork’s gotten sloppy, hyung,” Sehun said, stretching out his limbs. He was in shape, but it had been a long time since he’d worked out like this. “You can’t keep sparring with the baby classes and expect to get any better.”

The venom in Jongdae’s eyes seemed to dilute a bit. The tension in his muscles gentled. “Sehun?”

Sehun attacked.

Jongdae lurched backwards, body falling naturally into a defensive stance. Sehun paid Yoobeom on the floor no mind.

“You remember your form?” Sehun challenged, shedding his own shirt because, hey why not? He tossed it vaguely in the direction of his bag. If the collective chatter of their audience grew louder, Sehun paid it no mind.

The twinkle reappeared in Jongdae’s eyes and Sehun was gratified to see that edges of his smile curl.

“Show off.”

Sehun barely dodged as Jongdae surged forward.

He sidestepped and caught Jongdae around the waist, twisting.

Jongdae used the change in momentum to flip backwards over Sehun’s arm, forcing Sehun with him. Sehun slammed into the mat, rolling out of the way of Jongdae’s next blow. He was on his feet in less than a second, a high kick lancing in Jongdae’s direction.

The brunt of his blow glanced off Jongdae’s forearm.

Jongdae swept out his own foot in retaliation, but Sehun anticipated it. He caught Jongdae’s leg, pinning it to his hip.   
  
Jongdae flung himself upwards, curling his other leg around Sehun’s shoulder, bearing them both to the ground.

“Oof,” Sehun felt the air leave his lungs as his back crashed into the mat. Jongdae’s weight pressed into him.

They lay there for a second, winded.

Sehun didn’t even try to get out of it, enjoying the feeling of Jongdae on his hips. He watched Jongdae’s grin morph into something wild and happy and free above him, and the world righted itself.

“Hunh.”

Jongdae looked down at Sehun in confusion.

Sehun smirked. “This doesn’t feel much like losing, hyung.”

Jongdae’s ears went pink and Sehun used the opportunity to hook his leg around the outside of Jongdae’s knee, flipping them.   
  
Jongdae squeaked as their positions revered. His dark hair fanned out like a halo around his head.

“You fight dirty,” he panted.

Sehun grinned, pointedly ignoring how their torsos were pressed together, from pelvis to chest. “I don’t remember us having rules the last time we fought.”

“Brat,” Jongdae said fondly.

From where he had pinned Jongdae’s wrists, Sehun could feel Jongdae’s pulse trilling happily beneath his fingertips. It was hard not to notice the way Jongdae’s chest heaved beneath him, or the warmth of his thighs around Sehun’s back.

Sehun let go for his own sanity.

“Up,” he told Jongdae, scrambling to his feet. “Again, hyung. You’re favouring your right side, start evening out.”

“Yes sir,” was Jongdae’s response, which Sehun also took pains to ignore.

“That’s it,” Sehun instructed, falling properly into training mode. “Right, left, right, right again– nice! Now–”

Sehun toppled Jongdae. Jongdae rolled backwards and bounced to his feet.

Sehun grinned– it had been a long time since he had sparred, and even longer since he’d been able to go all out. It was also fun to see how much of Jongin there was in Jongdae’s fighting, just like there used to be much of Sehun in Baekhyun’s technique. But Sehun kept his attention on the hyung in front of him.

Once again, they ended in a tangle of limbs, neither one quite being able to gain the upper hand. Sehun was stronger and more in shape, but Jongdae was wily and his smile was very distracting.

Especially when he stole Sehun’s victory by _licking up his neck_.

There was a round of playful ‘boos’ from the audience, which neither Sehun nor Jongdae paid any mind.

“Eugh,” Jongdae made a face, as they scrambled to their feet. He stuck his tongue out. “Sweaty.”

“Your fault, hyung.”

Jongdae sighed, “Yes, yes, always hyung’s fault. Blame your elders.”

“Quit whining, hyung, let’s go again,” Sehun bounced on the balls of his feet, arms raised in defense.

They were just heating up to another round when there was a loud THWACK and Sehun suddenly found himself staring up at the concrete ceiling of the gym. To his left, Jongdae was the same.

Above, Jongin’s smirking face floated into view.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I think you two have given these people enough of a soft porn show.”

“Porn–?” Jongdae’s outrage abruptly cut off when he seemed to realise how loud he was being.

Jongin hauled them both to their feet. “You have another explanation for this?” He raised his eyebrow at Jongdae, who looked sheepish.

“Nini can’t stand that we’re giving him hot competition for ‘campus hot boi’,” Sehun flexed for the crowd, which obediently cheered.

Jongin felt an inordinate surge of annoyance. “Put a shirt on, Hunnie.”

“You feel threatened, I get it,” Sehun said sagely, finding his shirt somewhere on the ground and tugging it back on.

“Hah,” Jongin scoffed. He _did_ feel threatened, but he couldn’t put into words _what_ the threat was, even to himself. “Hyung?”

Next to him, Jongdae seemed to suddenly remember where he was and was curling into himself. Jongdae was not shy, and he was a devastating flirt when he wanted to be, but Jongin also knew that Jongdae was intensely private and liked to show only what he wanted to show.

Jongin spied Jongdae’s shirt in tatters in the corner. It was one that Jongin had given him.

Jongin scowled, digging into his dance bag. “Here, hyung. Sorry it’s so sweaty.”

But Jongdae pulled on Jongin’s sweat-soaked shirt without complaint.

Jongin and Sehun exchanged a glance.

“What?”

The shirt was a mistake. Somehow it was even more obscene to have Jongdae in a soaking, skin-tight t-shirt than it was to have him shirtless.

“Nothing,” Jongin and Sehun said simultaneously.

Jongdae’s pout emerged. Jongin was devastated.

“Put that away, hyung,” Sehun chided. “Come on, I’ll buy you two dinner.”

Unmindful of his own freshly-showered status, Jongin made sure to wrap an arm around Jongdae’s waist and Sehun’s shoulder as they left. Just in case.

Now that the show was over, the peanut gallery was also dispersing.

“Jongdae-ssi!”

Jongin didn’t move his arm as Jongdae turned.

Jongin recognised the irate man speaking as one of the hired trainers. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t come back, Jongdae-ssi.”

Jongin’s arm tightened around Jongdae, who just petted his hand placatingly. “I wasn’t planning to, Yoobeom-ssi.” Jongdae threw Yoobeom his most annoying, swarmy smirk and Jongin was proud. “I don’t think there’s anything you can teach me.”

Jongin wasn’t oblivious to the stares they were receiving as they left the gym, not to mention the occasional catcalls of the dance team. He was tempted to feel uncomfortable, but he pushed the feeling away in favour of feeling smug. The others may have watched, but only he left with these two beautiful boys on his arms.

They were still in high spirits as they reached the pub just a few blocks away from Jongdae and Jongin’s apartment, and remained in high spirits as they laughed through their meal.

In fact, they were so caught up in the adrenaline of the evening that neither Jongin nor Jongdae realized that Sehun was acting a little strange until he stopped them both after their second drink.

Immediately, Jongdae snapped into ‘hyung’ mode. “What’s wrong, Sehunie?”

Worryingly, Sehun didn’t even attempt to wave off their concern. “I need to talk to you.” His gaze flitted nervously between the two of them. “I’ve been wanting to say something for a while, and I just need to get it out there.”

Sehun kept them in suspense until they had paid the bill and were standing outside. For the first time, it wasn’t raining, but thunder still rumbled ominously in the air.

Jongin’s pulse thrummed in his ears. “What is it, Hunnie?”

Sehun grabbed each of their hands and took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. Jongin and Jongdae exchanged a glance. Jongin had thought they’d seen all of Sehun’s emotions. They had seen Sehun in the pits of grief, had crawled into that chasm after him to pull him out. They’d held his hands as he submitted his applications to university. They’d all curled up together on the floor of the apartment when their beds were too small and their nightmares too big. But they’d never seen Sehun _nervous_. Not around them.

Jongin was about to say something when–

“I’m in love with you.”

Sehun was looking at them steadily. “I’m in love with you,” he repeated decisively.

The words died in Jongin’s throat. Next to him, Jongdae looked just as stunned.

“Hunnie, I– we–”

Jongin didn’t know which one of them was sputtering.

“No, hyungs,” Sehun smiled gently. “Don’t answer now. I’m not telling you this to put pressure on you.” He squeezed their hands and suddenly Jongin wanted to cry. “I’m telling you this just because it’s true. I’m in love with you.”

He said it so simply, like he wasn’t tilting anyone’s axis. Maybe he wasn’t.

“I want you to know that you shouldn’t worry about choosing.” Jongin would have doubted anyone else, but sincerity burned in Sehun’s eyes. “As long as you both stay by my side, as long as you both love me, in whatever way, I will be fine. If our relationship remains just as it is now, please know that I will die happy.”

Tears stung Jongin’s eyes at such raw sincerity.

“This little declaration is not meant to be a burden,” Sehun continued. “We have had so much grief in our lives. I will never begrudge your love even if it doesn’t the mirror the shape of mine. Your love, as it is, is enough. More than enough. More than I could have ever dreamed of.”

He doesn’t say “after the ship”. He doesn’t mention Luhan’s name.

“I only wanted to tell you how I feel. I’m in love with you.” And Sehun smiled so sweetly.

Their surroundings disappeared in a blur of Jongin’s tears. “Hunnie!”

“_Aish_, Nini, don’t cry–”

And Jongin found himself pulled into a broad chest, a fond hand caressing his hair.

“I can’t give you an answer right now, Hunnie–” Jongin wailed.

“I know, Nini, I know–”

“But I love you, I love you!” Jongin sobbed into Sehun’s shoulder. Jongin didn’t know what he was feeling– happiness, sadness, anxiety, worry for the future. Love.

“I know, I know,” was whispered into his hair.

Jongin frowned when he felt the arm Sehun had wrapped around his waist being pulled away. He drew back, wondering if Sehun wanted space.

But it was Jongdae who had taken Sehun’s hand, and was clasping it tightly between his own. Jongdae’s gaze was dark and fathomless as he gazed up at Sehun, and suddenly Sehun looked so much younger, as if he was still waiting for Jongdae’s approval.

Jongdae caught even Jongin by surprise.

“Hunnie, thank you for giving us time,” Jongdae said softly, eyes not leaving Sehun’s. “And we’ll take it. We’ll talk it over carefully, and we will give your love the consideration it deserves. But I want you to know, no matter what, we will never, _ever_ leave you.”

Sehun calm façade wavered, and the barest hint of a tremor ran through him. Jongin squeezed him tighter.

“Regardless of how we proceed, I want you to know how _honored _I am that you fell in love with us.”

Sehun gasped softly.

“It is a _privilege _to have your love, and I promise you that we know that. It’ll never be a burden. Of all the terrible things in our life, having more love in it will never be a hardship. Especially if that love is yours.”

Jongin _hated _Jongdae for having such a beautiful way with words.

“What he said,” Jongin grumbled wetly into Sehun’s jacket.

A brittle laugh shook Sehun’s frame, and Jongin thought he felt a single tear on his shoulder. But when Jongin looked up, all he saw in Sehun’s eyes was the absolute adoration that was always there.

“Thank you, hyung. That’s all I want.” Sehun gently extricated himself from Jongin. “Now, I just have one more dramatic thing to do before I leave you two in peace.”

Jongin was about to protest when he was cut off by a pair of soft lips pressing against his.

He had barely processed their presence when they were gone. He opened his eyes to find Sehun leaning over Jongdae, the sharp lines of Jongdae’s jaw cupped gently in his hands. Sehun tilted Jongdae’s face to his and gave him the same chaste kiss– barely a grazing of the lips.

Sehun drew back slowly and the dazed look on Jongdae’s face must have mirrored Jongin’s. His fingers subconsciously darted up to touch his lips.

“Okay, now I’ve said everything I want to say,” Sehun smirked that smug, gremlin, chaos-causing maknae smile that told Jongin that everything was still right with the world. “See you later, hyungdeul.”

Jongin and Jongdae didn’t speak as they headed home, but their hands remained clasped tightly even as they climbed the stairs to their shared home.

Jongdae pressed him into the door the second they were inside.

“Hyung, we need to–”

“Talk later–” Jongdae’s words were muffled into Jongin’s neck, but he knew them for what they were.

Jongdae was pleading with him. The nips to his jaw were asking for just one more night of things remaining as they were. The fingers at his waist were begging for just one more night before they accepted something as frightening as change.

One more night of just Jongin and Jongdae.

They kissed their way to their bedroom and Jongin came as Jongdae fingered him open on their bed. Before he could apologise for lasting all of a minute, Jongdae was licking the mess off his stomach, up his sternum, and the up and up, until he was tasting himself on Jongdae’s tongue.

It didn’t take long to get back in the swing of things after that.

Jongdae diligently returned to complete his task of opening Jongin up and Jongin had to dig his heels meanly into Jongdae’s shoulder blades to tell him to stop teasing. He was ready.

The low moan that came out of Jongin’s mouth as Jongdae entered him would have embarrassed him but…

It was Jongdae. Sue him.

Jongin curled around Jongdae’s body, relishing the planes of muscle that shifted beneath his palms. He didn’t bother touching himself– Jongin and Sehun may be the dancers, but nobody moved their hips like Jongdae. Jongin made sure to show his appreciation by grabbing Jongdae’s ass, urging his lover deeper into his body.

Jongin keened, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, panting with pleasure.

And then Jongdae stopped.

“Hyung, what–”

Jongin had barely opened his eyes when he was being rolled onto his front.

“Wanted to be closer,” Jongdae growled into his neck as he placed a pillow beneath his hips.

Jongin moaned as Jongdae slid back inside him.

“Hyung, you don’t have to worry,” Jongin rasped, a hand reaching blindly behind him to curl into Jongdae’s hair. “I’m always here. It’s always you. I–”

Jongdae bit into Jongin’s shoulder. “If you’re thinking so hard, I’m not doing this right.”

“You-most-definitely-are,” Jongin gasped between thrusts. All coherence was lost after that, Jongdae moving so hard, brushing just the right spot inside him, a hand reaching around to tug at his nipples. Bright spots began to dance in Jongin’s vision. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Jongdae’s hand drifted down his stomach to press lightly against his cock. The words ‘I love you, Nini,’ were whispered in his ear.  
  
Jongin came screaming into the sheets.

He lay there, gasping, vision and general sensation sluggishly returning to him as Jongdae pulled out.

  
Jongdae was still hard.

“Hyung, let me–” Jongin flopped an arm out, only for Jongdae to bat it away.

“I’m fine, Jongini.” The moonlit smile that Jongdae sent his way made Jongin’s heart stutter in his chest. “I don’t want anything else. I just want to hold you. Is that okay?”

“Gross,” Jongin grumbled, heaving himself onto his back and opening his arms.

“You’re gross,” Jongdae said, wiping Jongin down with the extra sheet they had placed strategically for such purposes. He tossed it somewhere on the floor.

“Whatever, hyung,” Jongin gathered a squirmy Jongdae into himself, sighing contentedly when his tiny hyung was nestled comfortably in his arms.

Jongdae crooned a lullaby softly into his chest.

  
Jongin was asleep before he knew it.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Jongdae wondered that Jongin couldn’t feel the panic searing right through his skin.

Outside, it thundered.

A glance at the dresser mirror told him that his eyes were brown. Normal.

  
They hadn’t been a few minutes ago.

He had pulled out of Jongin as soon as he’d realized, flipping the younger man over so he wouldn’t see what Jongdae had seen in the mirror.

Jongdae’s eyes had been glowing a bright blue.

  
He was losing control of his power.

The Red Force cackled in his head and Jongdae could no longer shut him out.

_“Do you know why I call you Morning Star?”_

Tears dripped slowly down Jongdae’s face.

_“It’s because I didn’t quite want to call you Monster.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little out-take from when Jongin arrives to see Jongdae and Sehun sparring:
> 
> Jongin and the rest of the dance team were watching the beautiful spectacle unfold before them, jaws on the floor.
> 
> “That’s your boyfriend?” 
> 
> “I’m afraid so.” Jongin’s gaze didn’t leave the two men now wrestling on the mat.
> 
> Seulgi was staring at him.
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “Just,” Seulgi shook her head incredulously. “Fuck you, man.”
> 
> Jongin snorted. “I’m going to go rescue those two before they cause any more of a scene.”
> 
> “You’re going to stop two sweaty, shirtless, extremely hot men from wrestling eachother on the floor?”
> 
> “People, not objects, Seulgi,” Jongin retorted.
> 
> “As if you’re not drooling.”
> 
> “I have the right to remain silent.”
> 
> “So remain silent, and ogle with me.”
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please stay safe everyone, and if you can, do donate (money/time/skills/art) to causes that matter. The world can be bleak, but you give it hope! 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first fic and I hope you enjoyed so far. If you liked this first chapter, do drop a kudos and let me know what you thought in the comments!


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